A Crazy Long Road
by Whiskey
Summary: Angel and Cordelia travel back in time to meet Liam in Galway.
1. Sorry

Disclaimer: They belong to the WB etc.  
  
Summary: Okay this is the first chapter, we're just gonna take a little look see at Angel's relationships with his father and sister back in the day, then see how everyone is dealing now that Angel has been back on land for two months.  
  
Cordy's still missing, Lorne is still in Vegas, Connor has learned the truth, and Angel and Wesley have started to patch things up. To learn more, read the damn story. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 1: Sorry  
  
Galway 1753  
  
Jim watched unnoticed in the door frame as his two children sat together by the fireplace, and for a moment, just one moment, all was right with the world.   
  
Liam was comfortably resting in an armchair with his legs stretched out on a footrest, a book in one hand. His other hand rested on Katherine's shoulder as she knelt next to the chair, hanging on his every word as he read to her. If only Jim could convince Liam to read more often. At least the boy was home tonight. It was a Godsend not having to worry about his late night activities. Perhaps heaven would find a place for him yet.  
  
The siblings were so alike yet so different. Both had inherited their mother's looks; deep brown hair and eyes, contrasted with pale skin. Both were fair to the eye, also like their mother in her youth. Both loved the fairy tales they had been taught as children, Liam by the maid, and Katherine by Liam, who had been an adolescent when the second child was born. Both had beautiful smiles, though Liam's had not been in evidence so much of late, at least not where Jim was concerned. Both were dreamers. All the similarities were apparent in the scene before the fireplace.  
  
.It was not the similarities that bothered Jim so much as the differences. While Katherine was a tiny eight year old child, innocent, eager, intelligent, and impressionable, Liam was a man of large build, questionable morals and perpetual laziness. Jim had come close to giving up on the boy.   
  
It wasn't that Liam, lacked intelligence. He just lacked the will to put that intelligence to good use.   
  
It had once been Jim's wish to see the family business go to Liam when he reached an age of retirement, but Jim had had to face up to the fact that his son was ill suited for any position of responsibility. Habits of drinking and debauchery were near impossible to break, and Liam was stubborn. More so with each passing day.   
  
As a young child Liam had been very social, active and loud. Almost the opposite of the quiet girl he now read to in animated tones by the fire. A girl who might have been his twin had they been the same age.   
  
Jim sighed, and suddenly felt conflicted. Should he walk into the room and intervene? Should Katherine be spending this time in Liam's presence? She was still so naïve. She looked up to her brother, despite the regular and disruptive arguments that rocked the house every time Liam came home hungover, and bruised from brawling.   
  
Jim suspected that Liam had begun to intentionally lead Katherine away from Jim to spite him. She was a good child who obeyed her parents, but her affections lay with the brother who had invented crazy tales of adventures in faraway lands to entertain her when she was sad or lonely. Liam was creative if nothing else.  
  
Jim's thoughts had taken him away, and so it was with a small shock that he realized Katherine had climbed into Liam's lap and fallen asleep, and that Liam had finally noticed their fathers presence, and now watched him in return with a somewhat hostile expression.  
  
"Spyin' on me Father?" he murmured, careful not to wake the child in his arms.  
  
"I've a right to watch over my children Liam," Jim responded sternly. Liam smiled. Not the beautiful smile Jim had remembered earlier, but a bitter twisted smirk.  
  
"I'll not be corruptin' her with "wicked ungodly ways" if that's ya thought Father," he said, a challenge in his voice. I dare you to take her away from me.  
  
"I'll be puttin' her to bed now Liam. Hand her over." Jim waited. Liam made no move, and a staring competition ensued. Moments passed uncomfortably before Jim's steely gaze won, as usual, over Liam's emotional glare.   
  
Without a word Liam handed the girl over to their father, who gently carried her down the hall and away from her brother. Left alone by the fire Liam cursed to himself, angry and frustrated. Then quietly he went for the front door, and then into the street outside.  
  
Jim returned to the fireplace, expecting the boy to be waiting there for him. All he found was Liam's storybook sitting on the footrest. He cursed to himself, angry and frustrated. That boy would be the death of him yet.  
  
L.A. 2002  
  
Connor stared down at his book, wracking his brains for the answer. He'd studied for this. He'd remember eventually.  
  
"Time's up!" came a prim British voice. Connor groaned.  
  
"I'm not finished." he said, allowing the statement to come across as a threat.  
  
"No?" asked Wesley, "Well lets have a look anyway. We need to see where you're at so we can determine how best to procede with your education."  
  
"Why do I need this anyway?" Connor demanded, kicking his chair in the leg.  
  
"We've been through this," Wesley said distractedly, picking up the reading comprehension test and beginning to read. "If you wish to function as a useful member of this society it is best you have an education."  
  
"Right," came the sullen reply. "When do I get to fight demons again?"  
  
"When your father's convinced you're ready." Wesley recited, still not looking up from the test.  
  
"I've been killing demons since a was big enough to hold a knife, I was ready a long time ago."  
  
Wesley froze in the motion of turning a page, and took a quick deep breath, but quickly recovered before giving Conner a sympathetic look. His words were not quite so sympathetic.  
  
"Demon fighting is important, and I'm sure your father will be happy to help you with your fighting skills, but learning language, and, and, and, history, and mythology. It all has its place and it's best you learn it."  
  
Connor looked down, "I don't think he'll want to teach me any more fighting skills after last time," he said quietly.  
  
"What's that?" asked Wesley, who was back to reading the test.  
  
"Nothing," Conner replied.  
  
"Hmm. Well I suppose that's all for now. You haven't done too badly here. Spelling's not so good, but your comprehension is impressive, considering you've never attempted one of these before. I'll take it home with me. See what I can do about grading it." Connor looked depressed at the notion of being graded, and Wesley having noticed, quickly changed the topic, "This is all rather new to me too you know. This teacher student relationship. I feel that if we get off on the right foot, we can make this work. We each put in the work, and soon you'll be able to read and research as well as any . . ."  
  
He trailed off, realizing that Connor still looked less than thrilled.  
  
"I'm sure he'll come around soon," he said quietly.  
  
"Right," said Connor, smiling suddenly for Wesley's benefit.  
  
Wesley had come into Connor's life about a week ago. Connor liked the man, but found his manor confusing. Sometimes he behaved like a truly professional teacher, reminding him a little of Holtz during those long hours Connor had first learned how to read. Other times Connor would catch him staring at him with an odd look on his face. Pity?  
  
It was almost as if just looking at Connor put Wesley in some kind of pain.  
  
The only information Connor had been given about the man was that he was an expert on demons, and that he and his father were trying to resolve some past conflict that no one had volunteered much information on.  
  
The two were civil with one another, but far from friendly. Wesley had however, for whatever reason, accepted the position of tutor.  
  
There had been a long discussion between his father, Fred and Gunn about how they would go about giving Connor an education. Connor understood that other people his age went to a place called "high school", but his father had not wanted him to go there, for the same reason he refused to allow Connor to fight demons.   
  
"He doesn't know this world. He acts on instinct. He doesn't know how to act, who to trust. I'm afraid he'll be hurt. I'm afraid innocent bystanders'll be hurt."  
  
And so Wesley had been brought in.  
  
It had been Fred's suggestion, and his father had not reacted well to it, simply walking out of the room after giving Fred a frighteningly withering glare. But decisions must have been made while Connor was not there to listen because two weeks later Wesley had arrived, and Connor's language lessons had begun.   
  
"Well. I'll be going now. Don't forget to read the next chapter of your history text. I'll be here again tomorrow at ten." Wesley was saying, "tell your father when he wakes that . . that I'm working on finding her. Something will turn up soon."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"Alright. Goodbye."  
  
"Bye,"   
  
And Wesley was gone.  
  
Right on schedule, thought Connor, looking at his watch. The sun would set in a few minutes and his father would be up soon. Wesley tended to avoid Angel as much as possible.  
  
"Wesley gone already?"  
  
Connor jumped. His father had entered the lobby undetected as usual. It always frightened Connor when he did that.  
  
"Yeah. He's gone."  
  
"Has he found anything yet?" Angel's face was deceptively blank. Connor knew how much finding Cordelia really meant to him. He remembered how happy he'd been after that phonecall five months ago. He'd thought he was going to a romantic rendezvous. That his life was finally coming together. The son, the girlfriend, the mission. Instead he'd found himself at the bottom of the ocean, trapped in a steel coffin.  
  
Guilt washed over Connor as he replied "No. Nothing yet. He's trying though."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Angel moved away towards the kitchen. Clearly he considered the short conversation to be over.  
  
Connor drifted after him, feeling lost. It suddenly occurred to him that this was a very different vampire to the one he had first met five months ago. When Connor had first come to this world Angel had been frighteningly intense. His offers of a home and his constant advice, questions and praise had been confusing. Connor had assumed at the time that Angelus was using guile to seduce him into evil. Now he understood that Angel had been desperately trying to establish a relationship with the son who's childhood he'd missed. The realization had been devastating.  
  
This Angel, the one pouring the blood in the hotel kitchen, was a quiet, distant melancholic creature. It made Connor feel abandoned.  
  
When divers had gone down near Point Dume to search for a rich woman's emerald ring, the last thing they had expected to find was a dead body in a steel and glass coffin. Even more suprising was the way the body had disappeared shortly after the coffin had been cracked open.  
  
Angel had stumbled into the Hyperion, bone thin, with bangs long enough to droop into his eyes, and sporting an inch of facial hair. Connor had not recognized him that day. He'd fainted without saying a word.  
  
When he awoke three days later, he'd told Fred and Gunn that Justine had been the one to send him down into the depths. He'd protected Connor, keeping his name out of the story entirely.  
  
He had asked to speak privately with the boy, who had been pretending to grieve for his lost father for three months.  
  
The conversation that had followed had been a hard one. It had started with threats from Conner, but had ended with the realization that Holtz had staged the murder. Angel had forced Connor to remember details about Holtz's body. The puncture wounds without the marks of other teeth surrounding them, the fact that the blood had not actually been drained.  
  
These were details Connor had not thought to look for at the time, but his experience with the victims of vampires since he'd come to live at the Hyperion told him that Angel was telling the truth.  
  
Of course there was still the possibility that Angelus had used other than his teeth to kill Holtz. It would be a long time before Connor could truly trust the vamp. But Angel's logic, combined with the solemn promise to keep Connor's involvement it the boating incident a secret, had been enough for Connor to accept the concept of sharing a home with him.   
  
Since then Angel had cut himself off from his son. He'd set down rules for him, which Connor had reluctantly followed, but emotionally, Connor was alone. The awkwardness of the situation became unbearable at times.  
  
Angel looked up and found Connor staring at him.  
  
"You want something to eat?" he asked. "I think Gunn left some pizza."  
  
"I'm sorry," said Connor, ashamed to feel tears springing up in his eyes. At least they weren't falling down his face. His emotions were suddenly going crazy, pushing at him from all different directions.  
  
In some ways he still hated the vampire that stood before him. He was still a demon, and a lifetimes worth of learning about the evil of demons could not be reversed in a matter of months.  
  
But the old horror of the realization that Holtz had framed this vampire for his own murder, added to the months of loneliness and unresolved issues between himself and Angel suddenly combined to make Conner desperately reach out to the father who had missed his childhood.  
  
Angel just stared, eyes vulnerable for a moment, before looking down at his feet and letting out a long sigh. Obviously he had caught the tone of the two simple words, and the impact was heavy.  
  
Without looking up, he set his glass of blood aside, and moved slowly toward the boy. Connor tensed, watching nervously until Angel's gaze came back up again. The vampire's eyes were dry, but sad, and suddenly he was reaching out and wrapping his arms around his son.  
  
Connor couldn't take it anymore and the tears started spilling over. He was reminded of a similar situation five months ago when he had been sobbing in Cordelia's arms.   
  
Unlike Cordelia, Angel remained silent. No words of comfort. Just a sad, quiet presence.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Connor sobbed into his shoulder.  
  
TBC  
  
This is my first fic. I'd love some reviews!  
  
naomichainey@hotmail.com  
  
Chapter 2.  
  
Galway 1753  
  
Liam hadn't come home. Breakfast was an uncomfortable affair.  
  
Katherine noticed her mother and Anna giving Father sideways glances. Liam's name would not be mentioned, but all thought was directed at the empty chair, empty plate, and Jim's tense bearing.   
  
Katherine had hoped Liam would stay home last night, and not incur Father's wrath. She wished she could understand why he did what he did. Why he was so determined to rock the boat. She asked him sometimes.  
  
"Ah, Katherine, you have to see! They stand in your way. They want to hold ya back so you live out the same boring lives that they do, but we're different you and I. We'll see the world together some day. Would ya like that?"  
  
But Liam's dreams were not always Katherine's dreams, and she wished he would find a way to see the world and please their father. At present he was doing neither.  
  
Anna looked nervous. Anything to do with Liam always made the serving girl nervous. Katherine had never understood why.  
  
Jim reached for his mug, took a slow sip, then banged it on the table with an angry "That boy!"  
  
Suddenly he got up and walked out of the room. The women and child, still at the table, could hear the sounds of Jim donning hat and cloak, then the sound of a door opening, then slamming shut.  
  
"He'll find 'im," said Mother, placing a hand on Katherine's shoulder.   
  
Unfortunately that was exactly what Katherine was afraid of.  
  
L.A 2002  
  
It was the first real conversation they'd had since Angel had returned to the hotel. He found himself enjoying it.   
  
He wasn't entirely sure why this breakthrough had happened. The sudden apology had been unexpected to say the least after months of awkward silences, but he was taking full advantage of it, having the kind of heart to heart with the boy that he had only had previously with Lorne or Cordelia. Both of whom were sorely missed.  
  
"Do you miss him" he asked.  
  
"Miss who?"  
  
"Holtz."  
  
"That's a trick question." Connor stated suspiciously.  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes it is. If I don't miss him I'm a horrible person because he was my foster father and he was good to me. But if I do miss him, it means I'm loyal to the man who took your son and framed you for murder."  
  
Angel thought for a moment.  
  
"Maybe you're right. You don't have to answer it." He took a sip of his hot chocolate and looked into the fireplace.  
  
"Do you miss her?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Cordelia."  
  
Angel looked at his son for a long time. For a while he had suspected that Connor had something to do with Cordelia's mysterious disappearance. That it had been a part of the boy's revenge. But now he dismissed the idea as paranoia.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"She has demon in her."  
  
"Well I've got demon in me."  
  
"So it is still in you. The evil. It's in you. You don't deny that." It wasn't an accusation as it had been in the past. He was fishing for a clarification.  
  
Angel began searching for an explanation that would make sense to Connor. He wanted to be honest, without scaring the boy away. This conversation was a turning point, and Angel was hoping desperately that he would not screw it up. Connor was watching him closely.   
  
"It is still in me." he said finally, "but it doesn't control me."  
  
Connor considered this for a moment, before nodding slightly.  
  
"Because of the curse," he said.  
  
"Right. Although I see it more as a gift than a curse these days. Being bitten in the first place could be considered a curse."  
  
Connor looked up suddenly, as a thought occurred to him, "Was it my mother that turned you?"  
  
"Yeah it was," Angel replied, "She thought she was doing me a favour,"  
  
He felt very sad as he thought of Darla's last moments. Her love for Connor, and her certainty that had they both lived, she would no longer be able to love her son. He remembered her sacrifice, and her last words.  
  
"She wanted me to tell you something."  
  
Connor raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Tell me something?"  
  
"Mmm. Do you wanna hear it?"  
  
Connor looked uncertain. Angel's senses picked up the racing heartbeat, and sight sweat.  
  
"You don't have to,"  
  
"No, I want to hear it," Connor said, putting on brave face.  
  
"She said . . . She said that you were the only good thing we ever did together. She wanted you to know that."  
  
Connor looked confused.  
  
"But if she was evil . . .why, why would she want me to know that?" The tears were about to spill over again. Angel politely ignored them.  
  
"She was pregnant with you. A human baby with a soul."  
  
"So it was as if she was cursed?"  
  
"Almost."  
  
"Almost."  
  
"She loved you. She tried to pretend she didn't, but she loved you."  
  
"I don't know how to feel about that."  
  
Angel laughed sadly, "Neither do I."  
  
"I've always wondered if there was evil in me."   
  
"There's no evil in you! If that's what Holtz told you . ."  
  
"He didn't. He just told me that I should learn what evil there was in . . . my parents, so that I could fight it in myself."  
  
Angel gripped Connor by the shoulders and forced him to meet his gaze, "There is no evil in you."  
  
Connor smiled a little. "So what do we do now?" He looked at Angel hopefully. Angel knew what this was. Connor was finally, totally accepting Angel as his father. He didn't know how to express it though. He was looking to Angel for guidance.  
  
"We put the past behind us." Connor nodded. "There are no debts between us. We've both made mistakes here. Trusted the wrong people. But now we move forward. And we do it together. Starting right now." He stood up and walked toward the stairs leading down to the basement.  
  
"What . . . Where are you going?"  
  
"Training session. You coming?"  
  
Connor grinned.  
  
TBC  
  
  
Galway, 1753. 


	2. Missing Cordelia

Disclaimer: They belong to the WB etc.  
  
Summary: Okay this is the second chapter, we're still taking a little look see at Angel's relationships with his father and sister back in the day, and seeing how everyone is dealing now that Angel has been back on land for two months.  
  
Cordy's still missing, Lorne is still in Vegas, Connor has learned the truth, and Angel and Wesley have started to patch things up. To learn more, read the damn story. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Galway, 1753.  
  
Jim had found Liam unconscious in the gutter, and had very nearly decided to leave him there. The sight of his own son passed out in the street after a night of God only knew what had made him sick to the stomach.  
  
He'd picked the boy up off the street and driven home with him, trying to decide how to deal with him when he woke. In a state of sleep Liam looked young and vulnerable, but it could not be denied that Liam had gone out looking for trouble, and to judge from the empty purse and the bruise forming around the boy's left eye, he had found it.   
  
When Jim arrived at the house with Liam in his arms, his mother had fussed over him, tucking him into bed and looking closely at his eye, which was turning purple. She'd stroked his hair as if he were still a child before telling Jim they didn't need to call a healer in. Liam would wake with aches and pains, but he would heal without aid.  
  
Liam had woken an hour later in obvious discomfort, vaguely complaining about John Ackerby's left hook, and effectively dispelling any notion that he might have been attacked. Jim knew Ackerby. He was one of Liam's more irritating drinking companions. The black eye had been obtained in a bar fight. The money wasted of ale and woman.  
  
Jim had told Liam to get himself cleaned up and meet him in the dining room. Liam's head had snapped up, his gaze suddenly clear. Something in Jim's tone had made the boy afraid.  
  
Now they sat across from one another at the dining table.   
  
The sound of Anna humming to herself in the laundry intruded a little on the silence.   
  
Jim had opened all the windows, and felt a perverted sort of satisfaction when he noticed Liam squinting. The light was hurting the boy's eyes.  
  
Jim had also noticed that while most of the dishes had been cleared after breakfast, Liam's perfectly made place at the table had not been touched.  
  
Liam had noticed it too. He was looking at it with an odd expression.  
  
"So," Jim began. "Another night of drinkin', and whorin'!" His disgust was apparent, as was his frustration.  
  
It was the way many arguments between father and son had begun. Jim would let Liam know exactly what he thought of the boy's habits, and Liam would act as though his father were a tyrant, taking the defensive and playing the victim. It made Jim insane.  
  
Liam continued to look at the clean plate. "Father," he began in a low quavering voice.  
  
"No excuses Liam." said Jim, in a voice just as low. "We're not here to listen to your excuses. We're here so that I can set down a punishment."  
  
This took a moment to register with Liam, but when it did he looked at his father in surprise. He hadn't expected that. He was twenty six years old. Set punishments were a thing of the past.   
  
"You don't think I'm a little old to be slapped across the wrist with a ruler father?"  
  
The sarcastic tone fuelled Jims anger even further, and his voice rose as his emotions began to get the better of him.  
  
"I think that you live in my house. I think that as long as you're livin' off funds that I earn honestly while you spend your days sleepin' and nights drinkin' that you will accept any punishment I see fit!"  
  
"Is that so Father?" the question was almost a threat.  
  
"Oh it's so Liam. Beginning this moment! I want you out in the stables! I expect them to be mucked out and swept by the time I return this evenin'."  
  
Jim watched his son, awaiting a response.  
  
Liam was apparently lost for words though, because he was simply staring at the table and seething in his chair.  
  
"Where are you going?" he finally asked in a nasty fashion.  
  
"Business meeting."  
  
And Jim rose from the table in disgust, walking from the room with a straight back and squared shoulders, leaving Liam to seeth, and gingerly touch his swelling eye.  
  
The talk had been shorter than Liam had expected it to be. Some days the shouting could go on for hours.   
  
The punishment was unexpected though. Usually the berating was punishment enough.  
  
He leaned back in his chair, letting his head spin slowly with the movement and groaning in pain. He wasn't sure which was worse. The hangover or the black eye. He decided to close all the curtains, and stood up to do so.  
  
"I'll help you Liam," came a quite voice from the hall. So quiet that the words did not hurt his ears the way his father's had. Liam smiled and laughed slightly as the tension in him began to fade. She really was an angel.  
  
"You were listenin' to all that then?" he asked.  
  
Katherine padded into the room and took her father's chair. "Yes." She looked at him with wide eyes. "And I'll help you with the stables. We can be like captives of an evil army. We can be forced to work live slaves, and plot our escape! Then we can fight our way across the world to return to our homeland. Live happily ever after."  
  
She looked at her brother hopefully. It was a scenario from a tale Liam had invented for her three years ago. He was impressed with her memory. His smile turned sad.  
  
"What if it's home you wish to escape from?" he asked.  
  
  
  
L.A. 2002.  
  
"You hear that?"  
  
"They're trainin' again."  
  
"This is good huh. Angel's loosening up. I thought he'd never stop with all them rules he was settin' down."  
  
Gunn glanced at his girlfriend for conformation.  
  
"They're making friends," she said, eyes sparkling. "They've got hylufsion."  
  
Gunn's brows shot up.  
  
"Hylufsion?"  
  
"Pylean word for male bonding between relatives and soldiers."  
  
"Oh," he said, shaking his head in amusement. Pyleans had words for everything.  
  
"They're coming!" she cried suddenly.  
  
"Quick! Act like we weren't talkin' about 'em!"  
  
"Charles, we were talking about them."  
  
"So?"  
  
He dragged her over to the couch.  
  
Angel came up the basement stairs, looking tired and sweating slightly. Fred and Gunn quickly switched the TV on and snuggled together. Angel stopped and looked at them suspiciously.  
  
"Why are you guys watching Sesame Street?"  
  
Gunn looked horrified as he realized that he was watching Supergrover. Fred laughed and gave Angel a guilty look.  
  
"We were tryin' to cover up that we were talkin' about ya," she said honestly. She looked so adorable that Angel couldn't help but be amused. Sounds of Connor beating the crap out of the punching bag floated up from downstairs. Angel smiled.  
  
"About me and Connor?"  
  
"Yeah." Fred replied. "We were kinda worried for a bit. I mean we were so glad to have you back an' all when you turned up here lookin' all thin and scary, and we thought you and Connor would, you know, pick up from where ya left off, and then you put all these rules on him, and we didn't get why, but now your all hylufsiony, and we were sayin' that . . . well, you're good now. You're training him!"  
  
Angel stared at her, then turned to look at Gunn.  
  
"We're happy you guys are bonding," Gunn translated.  
  
Angel took a moment to absorb that, then he smiled.  
  
"Yeah, well I'm happy about it too," he said seriously. He sat down on the couch next to Fred, picked up the remote and switched off Supergrover. "We're really getting along. I mean it's been hard but . . ." he trailed off, staring at the blank Tv screen. Then he noticed that Fred and Gunn were looking at him, waiting for him to finish the sentence.  
  
"I just came up to get a snack," he said quickly. " For Connor. Well obviously for Conner. I don't eat." Gunn nodded.  
  
Angel got up and walked in the direction of the kitchen, glancing around the lobby as he went. His gaze flicked to the phone and the stacks of business cards. He stopped and turned back to Fred and Gunn.   
  
"So no one's called?" he asked, "No one needs saving?" Fred shook her head. Angel looked disappointed.  
  
"Too bad," he said, "I think Connor's ready to go out. I mean we've been training a few weeks now and he's getting really good."  
  
Fred and Gunn shared a glance,"  
  
"I think he was ready to fight demons before you started training him," said Fred, giving Angel a funny look. Angel pointedly ignored it. Fred looked down into her lap.  
  
Gunn looked depressed.  
  
"No calls," he said "Funds are dryin' up man. Without our connection to the powers . . " seeing the sudden sadness on Angel's face he stopped speaking.   
  
Awkward silence descended upon the three, and soon became oppressive. Cordelia's disappearance was something they didn't discuss much.   
  
Fred remembered Angel's reaction when he had first heard about her disappearance. It had been almost too much for him to handle after his time in the sea. He hadn't actually said anything for a long moment, but Fred had noticed the tears forming in his eyes. Then he had asked to be left alone for a while, and while Fred and Gunn had been reluctant to leave him alone, knowing that he'd spent the last three months completely alone, they had obeyed him, not wanting to upset him further, and not knowing what they could possibly say to ease the pain. Angel had been through more in the last five months than any man should have to endure in a lifetime.  
  
Angel shifted uncomfortably.   
  
"We'll find her." he stated. "Wesley's on it." But it was obvious to the others that Angel was forcing himself to believe it.  
  
It had been Wesley's skill with books that had been the deciding factor in hiring the ex-watcher. Angel had not forgiven his old friend for anything, but knowing that Wesley had expertise that could lead to finding Cordelia, Angel had been convinced to give him a second chance, much to Fred's relief. But while Angel's blind anger with Wesley had subsided, the two were not making leaps and bounds in the direction of reconciliation. Fred hoped that time would heal the wound. She hoped that Wesley would find Cordelia, perhaps earning redemption in Angel's eyes.  
  
After all, Angel himself was on a quest for redemption every day.  
  
Fred looked down at her hands. She missed Cordelia horribly. Maybe not as horribly as Angel did, but losing her only female friend was still a terrible thing. Cordelia had been something of a role model, and despite being a few years younger than Fred, like an older sister.  
  
Fred hoped that Cordelia was okay, wherever she was, but her hopes that the seer would return were fading with each passing day. Some days would go by when she didn't even think about her lost friend. At the ends of those days she would feel guilty.  
  
But she never gave up hoping completely. Cordelia was a survivor. And sometimes people showed up after being presumed dead for long periods of time. After all, Fred herself had come back to earth after being missing for five years. And Angel, he had returned to them after a mysterious three month absence.  
  
Fred remembered the day he had shown up at the Hyperion. She'd recognized him immediately, and had let out a horrified scream. He had been like a shadow of himself. She had actually been able to see his bones through his skin. The well built "hansom man" who had saved her from the demons in Pylea had been replaced by a sodden skeleton, with liquid brown eyes begging for help.  
  
She, Gunn and Connor had all been hanging out in the lobby with the hope that a client might call and need their help. When Fred had screamed Gunn had reacted before he'd recognized the frail vampire, and had moved into attack mode, threatening Angel with a crossbow he'd been absently playing with before the vampire had arrived.   
  
It was at that point that Angel had collapsed.  
  
"It's Angel!" Fred had cried, making Gunn throw his crossbow to the side so he could roll the vampire over to get a better look at his face. Recognition had dawned. Gunn had looked ill.  
  
He had directed Fred to go to the butcher for some fresh blood, then carried Angel up to his room, with frighteningly little effort.  
  
Fred had returned half an hour later with the blood to find Connor pacing outside Angel's bedroom door with shaking hands and a paper white face.  
  
Fred had watched him for a moment in pity.  
  
"He's gonna be okay." Fred had assured him, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. He must have heard the quaver in her voice though, because the look he'd given her had been one of fear.   
  
Once they'd gotten a little blood into him, Angel had been able to relate the tale of how he had been captured by Justine. She'd caught him by surprise he'd said.  
  
He had told them of his time in the ocean with no inflection, the horror of the tale reflected in Fred and Gunn's faces, rather than in his own. At least Gunn had looked how Fred had felt. Nauseous.   
  
The search for Justine was ongoing.  
  
But the fact was, that after all that had happened, fate had found a way to bring Angel back to them. So Fred held out a little hope that Cordy would also return. Hopefully someday soon.  
  
"We'll find her." Angel repeated. This time with more conviction.  
  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Galway, 1753  
  
Liam took a heroic drink of water, straight from the bucket he'd just pulled out of the well. As soon as his headache was gone he'd help Katherine out with the stables.  
  
Katherine was having a grand time. Being eight years old and female she was never expected to do such undignified work, and the novelty had yet to wear off.  
  
She was covered in dirt, and had hay sticking out of her hair at all angles, and Liam suspected that she would stink horribly. He wasn't standing close enough to make that judgment with certainty though.  
  
"Help me Liam!" she called out, giggling.  
  
"I am helpin'! I'm seein' that you're doin' it correctly," he shouted happily across the yard. Then he winced at the pain in his head.  
  
"Liam! You monster!"  
  
She pretended to become angry and tried to throw dirty hay at him, but the wind was blowing in the wrong direction and it hit her in the face instead.  
  
Liam almost doubled over laughing.  
  
"Help me! This is your punishment Liam!"  
  
"Yes I'm helpin'," he muttered, setting the bucket down and wrinkling his nose.  
  
He walked across the yard to the stables and picked up a shovel. Disdainfully he used it to raise a pile of manure from ground, then threw it into the barrow, narrowly missing Katherine's head..  
  
"Don't hit me with it!"  
  
"I'm not," he said quickly.  
  
She looked down at her dress in a critical way.  
  
"Mother's going to be angry when she sees me in this mess. Don't make it worse Liam."  
  
He stopped shoveling and looked at her seriously.  
  
"Don't listen to Mother, you always look beautiful."  
  
She beamed at him.   
  
"Like a princess from Egypt?"  
  
"Yes like that."  
  
He turned to continue with the work, but stopped when she spoke again.  
  
"Liam?" she asked in a solemn tone.  
  
"Yes?" he asked, nervously.  
  
He wondered what she would say. She'd never looked so sad!   
  
"Don't go out drinkin' tonight." She blurted. "Stay with me like you used to when I was little."  
  
Liam laughed. He thought she was still little.  
  
"Read me the end of the book," she finished.  
  
He considered for a moment.  
  
"Alright then," he said. He couldn't say no to her. Such an adorable little mud covered child with eyes like those. Eyes just like his own he realized with a small shock, "I'll stay in with you tonight."  
  
"Thank-you."   
  
  
L.A 2002  
  
Wesley was late.   
  
Connor tapped his pen on the table.  
  
Angel looked at his watch.  
  
"Just go over your notes again," he said, "He'll be here soon."  
  
Connor felt like rolling his eyes, but didn't. The last few weeks had been good. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize this new relationship, and Angel seemed to think that these classes were important. He dutifully went back to his notes. European history. He looked closely at a diagram.  
  
"1790," he muttered.  
  
"What's that?" asked Angel, looking up from the pile of records he was trying to sort through. Connor had the impression that Cordelia's filing habits had been terrible. Angel had spent the last three hours trying to make sense of her notes.   
  
Connor also had the impression that Angel had volunteered to sort out the filing cabinet because he wanted to do something that reminded him of the missing seer. It was half comfort, and half self indulgent pity. Angel was missing Cordy.  
  
An hour earlier Connor had been fighting a mad urge to snatch the files away from his father. He had begun to understand that Angel's nature was as obsessive, as Holtz's had been. He didn't want to lose a second father to an obsession, and Angel was obsessing over Cordelia's absence.  
  
"It's a picture of a party that happened in the seventeen hundreds," he said. "Did women really wear these clothes? I'm surprised they could move at all in dresses like these."  
  
Angel laughed, "They could move," he said. "There are parts of Europe where the climate is very cold. That's why the gowns are so large. Also it was fashionable at the time."  
  
"The men can move in their clothing. And they do not look so ridiculous."  
  
Angel thought for a moment.   
  
"Well I guess fashion has a lot to answer for." he said thoughtfully. "But don't you think the dresses look nice on them?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
The conversation was cut short as Wesley crashed through the front doors.   
  
His hair was a tousled mess, his glasses were crooked, there were bags under his eyes, and he was speaking rapidly.  
  
"I'm sorry Connor we can't have a lesson today, something's come up I'm afraid, very important. I need to speak to your father, is he about?"  
  
He was breathing heavily, as if he'd just run from his car.  
  
Connor just gestured toward Angel with a look. It was not surprising that Wesley had missed Angel's presence. The vampire had ceased moving when the tutor had entered the room, and his ability to blend into the wall could be astonishing.  
  
Wesley gasped in surprise as he noticed Angel. Angel fixed the ex-watcher with an even stare. Connor squirmed. The tension between these two was intense.  
  
Wesley just stared for a moment, very put out.  
  
"You found something?" Angel asked at last, his tone revealing his hope, even if his expression did not.  
  
Wesley must have noticed because he relaxed a little as he nodded.  
  
Angel raised his eyebrows in a 'well okay get on with it' kind of way.  
  
"I don't know for certain," he said, obviously trying to weigh Angel's hopes, which Connor thought was strange because Angel hadn't shown many.   
  
Oh well, Wesley had known the vampire longer.  
  
Angel nodded for him to continue.  
  
"I began my research by looking into mysterious and sudden disappearances. The circumstances under which Cordelia disappeared, the empty car on the freeway, suggest that it was a mystical dissapearance rather than a more mundane kidnapping or some such, but as that research seemed to be leading nowhere, I turned to the Niazian scrolls."  
  
"The same ones that predicted I would kill Connor?" Angel asked with dark skepticism.  
  
Connor's head snapped up. "What?!" The familiar feeling of distrust for Angel flooded back.  
  
"That prophecy was planted!" said Wesley quickly, looking alarmed.  
  
"If Sahjahn changed that prophecy he could have altered other things on those scrolls." Angel pointed out. "We can't rely on what they say."  
  
"Whose Sahjahn?!" Connor demanded.  
  
"A demon," answered Wesley.  
  
"We'll talk about it later Connor I just need to hear what Wesley found out." said Angel urgently.  
  
Connor leaned back in his chair, looking defiant but saying nothing.  
  
Angel sensed the trust they had built up slipping away and vowed to talk with the boy as soon as possible, after Wesley told what he knew.  
  
"I know the scrolls are not completely reliable," said Wesley humbly. "I learned that lesson the hard way," he continued, with a meaningful look at Angel, and a glance at Connor that Connor could not interpret. "I merely thought they could be used as a starting point. I was wondering if Cordelia's disappearance was connected with Connor's appearance."   
  
"I had nothing to do with it!" Connor cried, looking suddenly distressed. He didn't need Wesley putting that idea in his father's head. Alone of all who worked at Angel investigations, was Angel aware of what Connor was capable of. Connor could understand how Angel might assume that Connor had done something to Cordelia to punish Angel for killing Holtz.  
  
"I know you didn't." Angel responded firmly, meeting Connor's gaze with a look to show he meant it.  
  
Wesley was looking at Connor in surprise.  
  
"I just thought the two events might be connected, not that you had something to do with it. I'd assume you'd tell us if you knew something."   
  
Connor felt embarrassed.   
  
"Anyway," Wesley continued, looking at Angel, "I discovered that there is a reference something called a 'tefson'."  
  
"Tefson?"  
  
"It means an alteration of time."  
  
"Like what Sahjhan did?"  
  
"Perhaps,"  
  
"Perhaps?"  
  
"Well, there is more work to be done on the translation, and it's not clear on several points . . . "  
  
"So how is this connected to Cordelia?"  
  
Wesley's face became animated, despite the fact that he had just been interrupted, "I believe that it is related for two reasons," he said, and began counting on his fingers, "One, because the 'tefson' was prophesized to happen at the same time that you were supposed to be sinking into the ocean,"  
  
"Wait, the coffin in the sea thing was mentioned in the scrolls?" Angel asked.  
  
Connor looked alarmed again, but kept his mouth shut this time.  
  
"Yes. I managed to translate that part last night. A little late I'm afraid." Wesley looked uncomfortable and shifted on his feet.  
  
"So the timing of its right. What's reason number two?" Angel prompted, forgetting the coffin and focusing on Cordelia again.  
  
"Ah, yes. Two, because everything about Cordelia's disappearance points to it being very sudden. As if some force came down and took her to another dimension, or another plane of existence, or in this case, another place in time."   
  
"So what kind of demon would have the power to do something like that?" asked Angel, Sahjahn?"  
  
"Who's Sahjahn?" Connor muttered quietly to himself.  
  
"Not Sahjahn." Wesley replied, ignoring Connor. "His powers allowed him to travel through time, not to take others with him. In fact I'm not convinced it was a demon at all. The only beings I know with that kind of power . . ."  
  
"Are the powers that be," Angel finished.   
  
"Of course there are other possibilities but . . "  
  
"Why would they take her away from me?" Angel asked meekly.  
  
"I don't know." Wesley replied sympathetically. "But I think it might be time you had contact with them again. The address Lorne gave you on Cordelia's birthday last year?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll go now."  
  
"And I'll go home to the scrolls. See if I can find anything more specific."  
  
"Good."  
  
There was an awkward pause, then Wesley left in a hurry.   
  
Connor recognized the style of exit. It was the same one Wesley had been using to escape the Hyperion before Angel woke up on a normal day.  
  
"I'd better get going," Angel said, standing up and glancing down at Cordelia's files. Then he looked closely at his son, "Look . . . Connor I know a lot of issues have been raised here. And we need to talk. But right now I need to talk to the powers and . . "  
  
"What else do you think is in those scrolls?" Connor interrupted.  
  
Angel sighed, "I don't know."  
  
"Things about me?"  
  
Connor looked at his father nervously. What if Wesley found out what Connor had done? He didn't know if he could withstand that. Angel was looking anxious.   
  
"What?" asked Connor.  
  
"Why does Wesley have the scrolls?" Angel wondered out loud.  
  
Connor looked confused, "Why wouldn't he?"  
  
"Last I heard they were locked away in Wolfram and Hart."  
  
Connor let this sink in, then turned to look at the door Wesley had gone through.  
  
There was more to Wesley Windham-Price than met the eye.  
  
TBC  
  
Thanks for some nice reviews. Keep 'em coming. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon. 


	3. Secrets

Disclaimer: They belong to the WB etc.  
  
Summary: Okay this is the third chapter, we're still taking a little look see at Angel's relationships with his father and sister back in the day, and seeing how everyone is dealing now that Angel has been back on land for two months.  
  
Also, there's a scenes which really lets you know why Liam makes Anna nervous!! This one bumped the censorship up I tell you!  
  
Cordy's still missing, Lorne is still in Vegas, Connor has learned the truth, and Angel and Wesley have started to patch things up. To learn more, read the damn story. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Jim entered the house from the yard.  
  
The stables had not been good, but at least Liam had made an effort.  
  
He was going to the boy's room now to be sure he was in bed rather than out. If he was awake he would have words with him. He wasn't sure what he'd say, but the morning conversation had ended in anger, and now that Liam had actually obeyed his orders, he felt there was more that needed to be said.  
  
He carried a lamp with him. All the lights within the house had been extinguished so he needed the lamp to see where he walked. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, and the shadows flickered with the flames.  
  
Liam's door was slightly ajar. Jim nudged it open with his free hand, then dimmed the lamp before shining it into the boy's room. If he was asleep Jim wouldn't wake him. Better to keep him safely in bed.  
  
But the bed was neatly made. Liam was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Jim cursed. The boy would never learn!  
  
He entered the room and sat heavily on the bed, making it creak, then let his head rest in his free hand. He felt like crying. What had he done to deserve such a son?  
  
Long moments past as Jim wallowed in self pity and disappointment.  
  
A faint sound of movement interrupted his thoughts. He froze, listening for more.   
  
Was Katherine still awake? The sound had come from the girls bedchamber.  
  
Concern for his youngest overrode concern for the eldest, as Jim left Liam's room, quietly closing the door behind him..  
  
Katherine's door was closed. Jim had to turn the handle to enter the girl's room, but he did it quietly, knowing for certain that unlike his son, his daughter would be in bed where she belonged.  
  
As he opened the door and shone the lamp into the bedchamber, Jim wondered briefly if he had entered the wrong room.  
  
Liam's large form was lying asleep on the bed.  
  
The thought was quickly banished though as he realized that Katherine was also in the bed. He had missed the girl at first, partly because she was so thin next to her brother, and partly because the only part of her that showed from beneath the covers was her tiny head resting on her brother's shoulder.  
  
Liam on the other hand was lying above the covers, his bright clothing contrasting with the white sheets.  
  
Relief washed over Jim as he realized that Liam had for once stayed at home of an evening. Even if he was in the wrong bed.  
  
Jim noticed the book on the floor. Ah. Liam had been reading to girl again and had accidentally fallen asleep then.  
  
Jim then noticed that Katherine's eyes were wide open and watching him nervously. It surprised him, the same way it had surprised him when Liam had noticed his father the previous night. Her expression was wary rather than hostile though. She didn't resent him the way that Liam did.  
  
"Shhh. Don't wake him," she whispered.  
  
Jim smiled at his daughter, he had no intention of waking the boy. He nodded, and quietly left the peaceful scene.   
  
Katherine also smiled, glad that her father had not taken Liam away. It might have led to yet another row. She hated it when they fought.  
  
She let her head rest on Liam's shoulder again, and five minutes later began to snore softly.  
  
  
LA 2002  
  
Connor beat the door with his fist.   
  
When no one answered immediately he beat the door again.  
  
Wesley was supposed to be here!  
  
Had he read the address wrong? He'd learned how to read maps a while ago, but he'd had to learn so much over the last five months that not everything could be remembered correctly.   
  
He jumped as the door swung open.  
  
"Connor!" Wesley exclaimed, looking like deer caught in the headlights.  
  
Connor regained his composure quickly.  
  
"I'll help with the research." he said, in a tone that left no room for argument.  
  
He entered the apartment uninvited.  
  
He looked around, taking in the bookshelves, the tidy lounge suite, the kitchen table covered with open books and notes, and the teacup resting on a coaster.  
  
One thing Connor had learned about Wesley. The man liked his tea.  
  
"Come right on in," said Wesley sarcastically to himself. He turned to find the boy examining his half empty teacup. Wesley wouldn't have been surprised if he had picked it up and sniffed it.  
  
He closed the door and addressed the boy,  
  
"You're here for a reason other than research I assume?"  
  
Connor opened his mouth to reply, but Wesley cut him off,  
  
"Does your father know you're here? I didn't think he'd worked his way up to letting you out unaccompanied just yet."  
  
"Don't tell him." said Connor.  
  
Wesley gave him a blank look, and waited for him to continue with the reason he'd come.  
  
With no response from his tutor Connor started to fidget but went on with an explanation, "He went to speak to the powers. I found your address in Fred's diary. I wanted to ask questions."  
  
His face was like stone and did not reflect his nerves the way his fidgeting hands did.   
  
Wesley nodded in understanding and motioned for Connor to sit. "I suppose this is about the false prophecy I spoke of earlier?"  
  
Connor sat slowly, still glancing around the apartment, his eyes taking in any unfamiliar details.   
  
"Yes. And Sahjahn. And Wolfram and Hart. And why you don't like to speak to my father. And why he doesn't like to speak to you."  
  
Wesley stared. He hadn't expected a confrontation like this with Connor so soon. He'd known that the questions would come up eventually, and that he would have to talk to the boy about the tangled relationship, but he wasn't prepared for it yet. He still needed time to work through the pain and guilt and wounded pride.   
  
He'd been working so hard trying to find Cordelia that there hadn't been room for much else. No time to deal with Angel, or the incident with the pillow at the hospital. No time to deal with Lilah and her persistent advances.   
  
Connor waited for an answer with a cool steady gaze.   
  
He'd sensed the tension between Wesley and Angel that he could not understand. He didn't trust the secrets, Wesley decided. This boy respected open honesty. And no surprise. He'd been lied to all his young life.   
  
Fear of how Connor might react if Wesley revealed his own part in the kidnapping suddenly clashed with a desire to clear his conscience.  
  
He wondered what Angel would want him to do.   
  
Connor was looking for information behind Angel's back.   
  
Wesley had very rarely witnessed the interaction between the father and son, as he'd been staying out of the vampire's way, but now he realized that there was little trust between the two.  
  
He decided that he would be honest with him. If Connor was ever going to learn to trust again, he needed truth from those who surrounded him.  
  
He wasn't certain how Angel would feel about that. The vampire had a tendency to tell people only what he believed they needed to know. Wesley decided he would deal with that later. Right now Connor needed answers.   
  
"Alright." Wesley said carefully, trying to frame his thoughts into words.  
  
"No lying!" said Connor. He'd sensed Wesley's hesitation.  
  
"Alright!" said Wesley.  
  
Two long sips of tea later, Wesley began:  
  
"I'll begin with Sahjahn then. He is connected to all of this and to everything that's happened to you since you were born so I suppose it's best to start with him."  
  
Wesley had never met Sahjahn though. His information on the demon had come from Fred, Gunn and Lilah, and wasn't complete.  
  
"Who is Sahjahn?" Connor asked, for the third time that day.  
  
"A demon."  
  
"I knew that already!"  
  
"Stop interrupting then!" Wesley was getting slightly irritated. Connor was getting his answers. Did he have to be so impatient!  
  
"He's a very powerful demon who was insubstantial, couldn't touch objects without passing through them, oh, and he had the ability to travel through time."  
  
"Had?"  
  
"Well not anymore, he's trapped in an urn, but I'll get to that."  
  
Connor nodded so Wesley continued, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling as he did so.  
  
"He became involved in all of this when he happened upon the Niazian scrolls, and found in them the prophesy of your birth."  
  
Connor looked curious. "What did it say?"  
  
"Basically it said that you would grow up and destroy Sahjahn."  
  
Wesley looked at the boy for a reaction, but got none.   
  
"He decided to take matters and the prophesy into his own hands."  
  
"He went back and changed the prophecy to read that my father would kill me." Connor said thoughtfully, "he thought if he wrote it, it would come to pass?"  
  
Wesley raised his eyebrows. He'd known Connor was intelligent, but now he was becoming intuitive, piecing the puzzle together as Wesley told the story.   
  
Wesley was impressed.  
  
"Not exactly, but close. He did change the prophecy, but that happened later. His first order of business was to contact Holtz back in the 1700s."  
  
"Why?" asked the boy, suddenly suspicious, "He would not have hurt me. He never killed human's. Just demons."  
  
He seemed so certain. Stating the facts as they were. Wesley looked into the clear blue eyes and saw that the boy believed what he said.  
  
He almost laughed. Then he did laugh.  
  
"If that's what you say, I don't believe you knew him very well." he said harshly, and in the back of his mind he realized that with those words he had just put himself in danger of being punched by a sixteen year old with super powers. He'd really struck a nerve.  
  
The look on Connor's face would not have scared most people, for while it was angry and intense, Connor had inherited Darla's build: thin and fragile. But Wesley had seen the boy in action, and Angel had warned him that Connor could be temperamental. The vampire hadn't said much to Wesley since the ex-watcher's return, but he had seen fit to warn him about Connor's volatile nature.  
  
"Connor. Calm down." Wesley said in a soothing tone, "You wanted truth remember. I'm telling it how I see it."  
  
Connor relaxed, but only a fraction.  
  
"You believe he did kill humans then? That he would have killed me? You've been lied to!"  
  
Wesley began his answer in a controlled tone.  
  
"I know for a fact that he killed several employees of Wolfram an Hart. I know that he ordered your friend Justine to kill me. I know that he ordered his followers to lure Fred and Gunn into a nest of vampires where they could very possibly have been killed! And according to Angel he did indeed threaten to kill you when you were this big and defenseless!!"  
  
His hands were held about a foot apart from each other to demonstrate how tiny Connor had been. His voice had risen to a frightening yell. There were tears in his eyes.   
  
Connor sat stunned. Not just from the words but from the uncharacteristic behavior. Wesley had never even raised his voice in Connor's presence before this day. But more than that, the words had the ring of truth to it. Wesley's pain was very real!  
  
Suddenly Connor got up and walked out. Slamming the door behind him.  
  
Wesley sat for a moment, wondering what he'd just done. Then panic hit. Connor had only half the story. He couldn't just leave!   
  
He rushed to the door, pulled it open and looked out to be greeted with the sight of Connor's retreating back.  
  
"Connor wait! There's more! Wait!"  
  
"I can't! Connor cried.  
  
He turned a corner and disappeared.   
  
  
Chapter 6  
  
Galway 1753  
  
Liam was in a good mood as he wandered through the courtyard. Bored, but in good humor.  
  
His father had been civil to him at breakfast, Katherine had been very bright and happy, Anna had been wearing the dress he really liked. The one with the lace and the plunging neckline.   
  
And there was Anna now. Holding a watering can and smiling as she inspected his mother's garden. Pink roses mostly. They were in full bloom and the smell was gorgeous!  
  
And it certainly was a day for smiling. The sun was warm, the sky was clear, the breeze was light.  
  
It blew through Anna's pinned up hair as she bent over the flowers and moved in a slow tantalizing way, taking more time than she ought to watering them because she was loath to leave the pleasant atmosphere.  
  
Anna hadn't noticed Liam yet, so he stood there contemplating her for a moment. He played with the thought of what it might be like to have her hands on his skin. To feel her breathing against his neck as he took her. She was far more beautiful than she realized.  
  
He'd made advances on her before and each had been unsuccessful. He'd also been drunk each time.   
  
It occurred to him suddenly that the sober approach might be more effective.  
  
Now she was humming a tune beneath her breath. He smiled. Her innocent humming combined with his own active imagination, was making his blood run hot.  
  
He crossed the courtyard, making no attempt to disguise the sound of his footsteps on the cobbles. He wanted her to hear him coming.  
  
She heard, and turned to see who had joined her in the garden. She stopped humming and turned abruptly to face the flowers again. Her face began to burn and her back stiffened.  
  
When he was standing close enough, he leaned over her shoulder and pretended to look at the flowers.  
  
"Beautiful, yes?"  
  
"Master Liam?" she responded, embarrassed to hear her voice was shaking. He hadn't touched her yet but his intensions clear enough. He was standing so close she could feel his breath against her ear. Breath not tainted with alcohol. He would not be so easy to fend off today.  
  
"The flowers." he said softly.  
  
"Yes. Yes they are." she agreed. Partly to be polite and partly because she really did love the roses.   
  
He took a step closer and she began to shake. He'd brought their bodies into contact. Light stubble brushed against her cheek, his broad chest leaned lighly against her shoulders.  
  
"And so are you." he whispered.  
  
He stayed that way for a moment, waiting for her to move away. When she did not, he placed his hands lightly on her hips, pulling them into his own.  
  
She began to panic.   
  
It was a fine line she walked with Liam. As the eldest son of the house, he had a lot of power over her, but ultimately it was his father she answered to. Pleasing them both was a task and a half, particularly when the hansom yet morally bankrupt son grew amorous.  
  
Anna had not wanted to lose her virginity to a spoiled rich boy who was only using her for pleasure, and to intentionally displease his father. But his latest advances had been difficult to rebuff.  
  
He had eyes like a puppy, and strong yet soft hands that made her shiver if they came in contact with her skin.  
  
And those hands were on her now.  
  
"Master Liam. Please. Your father. If he found out . . ."  
  
"Sshhh," he murmured into her neck before gracing it with a light kiss. Still she did not move away. Her breathing was becoming heavy. She cursed to herself as she felt her defenses melting away.  
  
Liam felt the tense muscles relax and silently rejoiced. Perhaps being sober was all he'd needed to win her after all. And being sober, he was far more aware of the effect he was having on her than he had been in the past. He smiled.  
  
"He needn't know." he whispered, running a hand over skin of her breast that could be seen at the neckline.  
  
Gently he turned her around to face him, arms going softly around the small of her back. He looked at her face to find her eyes closed, her lips parted. He had her, he thought, and leaned in to kiss her breast, as his hands worked their way through the laces that held her dress in place. She moaned.  
  
A thought struck him suddenly and he released her slowly, looking toward the house. They could be seen from the windows here.  
  
Anna caught the look, and understood. He didn't want his father knowing any more than she did. Relief flooded through her. This would end now. She'd remain chaste. He would leave her alone. The temptation would remove itself.   
  
But Liam had other ideas.  
  
"Come," he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the stables.  
  
She saw where he wanted to go. There was a patch of grass behind the building, just big enough for the two of them. The stables would hide them from view. Her heart sank as she allowed herself to be led there.  
  
When they reached their hiding place his hands quickly found her again. He pulled her close to him so that her face rested against his chest, then peered over her shoulder so that he could see what he was doing with the laces. They came lose under his fingers, and for the first time she felt a man's hands on her bare back. It made her shiver and shake against him, but also made her face the reality of her situation.   
  
She made one last protest, one last attempt to keep her innocence in tact.  
  
"Stop. Oh. Liam please stop."  
  
But it must not have sounded convincing, because he didn't. He just smiled and slid her dress down her shoulders and then to her waist. Next thing she knew, her undergarments were also sliding away, leaving her naked from the waist up. He took a moment to let his eyes appreciate her breasts before leaning in to kiss them again. Her hands reached up of their own accord and began to tangle in his hair. It felt like thick silk.  
  
While he hadn't heeded her requests to stop, there was nothing forceful in what Liam did. She could at any time walk away, and he would not stop her. But she was too scared, too confused, and enjoying the sweet shivers he was sending up her spine far too much to physically push him away.   
  
He started to slide down her body, sinking to his knees in the grass and sliding his hands over her still dressed thighs before pulling her down to join him. She watched as he removed his own shirt, and as he did so, she wondered if this would hurt.   
  
She began to shake again. She was now equal parts fear and longing, and his hands were coming for her again. She had an overwhelming desire to kiss his bared chest, and as his hands reached her hips, she gave in to it.  
  
This had the unexpected effect of making Liam suddenly gasp, and reach quickly for her dress, forcefully dragging it down until it rested around her knees. Anna cried out in surprise.  
  
Liam pressed himself against her and their eyes met. Hers' were scared and apprehensive, his seemed to be asking a question that she couldn't interpret. Big brown eyes   
  
Then he was using his weight to lean her down into the grass. It felt cool on her bare skin.  
  
She found herself pinned beneath him, knees on either side of his thighs. She was sweating lightly, her hands around Liam's shoulders, instinctively stoking him as though he were a cat while he used his whole body, lips, hands, chest, to explore hers. Her eyes began to tear up, and she felt sobs building in her throat. She could feel him pressing against her. It would be only moments before he was inside her. She wasn't ready!  
  
He took the moment to pause and look into her eyes. Then he looked at her hair, still pinned around her face. He reached up slowly, allowing her to relax, and drew the pins out, careful not to hurt her, then ran his hands through the dark mass, then finally, he kissed her on the lips for the first time.  
  
The kiss was warm, and passionate, and she kissed him back, losing herself in the moment completely. Then she realized that he had somehow managed to remove his own pants while kissing her.  
  
And then she realized that he was slowly pushing himself into her, and gasped. He'd done it while distracting her with his lips!   
  
The pain was not so much she thought, and she could feel the tension and pleasure, building as he began to move faster moaning into her hair as he did..  
  
She breathed into his neck, taking in the scent of soap, and the bacon he'd eaten for breakfast. Her hands trailed along the smooth skin of his back, and she felt his own breath against her temple, warm and soft.  
  
All thoughts fled as they both began to move frantically, each becoming desperate for a sweet release.  
  
An hour later they lay together, arms around each other's waists. Both still naked from the waist up.  
  
Liam was smiling. Anna was more contemplative.  
  
This had to have been one of the more stupid things she had done in her young life.  
  
She knew Liam. Knew that she had been no more than a challenge to him, and she'd allowed him to touch her regardless.  
  
She felt that she'd lost something special. Her first time had not been for a husband or even for love, and she would never have it back.  
  
But at the same time, it had been long and passionate, and with a man who was handsome, tender, and also skilled. It had been good, she decided. But it could never happen again. If she made a habit of this the chances of the master finding out, or worse: pregnancy, would increase, and she could not risk losing her job.  
  
She stood abruptly, and began lace her dress, reaching awkwardly around her back. Liam looked put out for a moment, finding himself alone in the grass. Then he stretched out languorously watching her as he did so.  
  
After a few moments he decided to help her with the dress.  
  
He stood slowly and reached for the laces.  
  
She flinched as he touched her. He didn't move away. Instead he wrapped his arms around her waist.  
  
"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that." he whispered into her ear.  
  
She closed her eyes and leaned into him. He kissed her ear as he finished with the laces.  
  
She turned to face him, mouth inches from his.  
  
"This will never happen again," she whispered, then walked away toward the house, picking up her watering can as she went, long brown hair flowing out behind her.  
  
Liam watched her go, the left side of his mouth twitched up into a smile.  
  
It really was a beautiful day.  
  
TBC  
  
Wow that was hard to write!!  
  
Again, thanx for the reviews!!!  
I love you guys!!  
  
And if you haven't reviewed yet, review now and I'll love you forever!  
  
And Jo, I'll fix that sentence soon, your right it doesn't read well at all. Thanks for pointing it out.  
  
More to come!  
  
Wesley and Angel still have lot to deal with, and I also think it's well past time I brought Cordy back.  
  
Also, I've never written a sex scene before, so go easy on me if it sucked. 


	4. Consequenses

Disclaimer: They belong to the WB etc.  
  
Summary: This is the fourth installment, or chapter 7, depending on yout point of view. It's mostly about how the vacation under the sea effected Angel psychologically. Also a snippet at the end about Liam.  
  
Cordy's still missing, Lorne is still in Vegas, Connor has learned the truth, and Angel and Wesley have started to patch things up. To learn more, read the damn story. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Angel crashed through the front doors into the lobby swinging his battle axe and calling out as he went, "Gunn! Fred! . . . .Connor?"  
  
He reached the middle of the lobby and turned on the spot, shifting his weight from left foot to right and searching the room with his eyes for friends that might be hidden behind the furniture. "Anyone?! Where are they?"  
  
He knew it was possible that Fred and Gunn had done their usual thing and gone to the café for lunch, but Connor should be hear. Connor never left the hotel. It was in the rules.   
  
Irrational panic swept over him as memories of the night that Connor had been born came flooding back. Vampires, demons and lawyers all besieging the hotel, just waiting for a chance to take the 'miracle child' and dissect him or . . . whatever.  
  
"Connor!!! Connor where are you!!!?"  
  
Why hadn't he taken the boy with him?!  
  
He forced himself to be calm and stood still, listening for signs of life.  
  
Strangely, it was his sense of smell that betrayed the boy's whereabouts first. He'd been outside, there was engine grease on his shoes. He was also crying. Angel could almost taste the salt.  
  
Concern, anger and disappointment warred within the vampire. On one hand, Connor had broken one of the rules, on the other he obviously needed to be consoled about something.  
  
Where had he been?  
  
The next giveaway was the sob.  
  
Without making a sound, Angel slowly and cautiously approached Cordelia's desk. Connor was underneath it.  
  
The boy's head was down on his knees, hair flopping around his baggy jeans. His arms were wrapped around his legs, which were pulled into his chest. He was shaking. Angel wondered how long he'd been there.  
  
"Hey," Angel ventured softly. The word was part greeting, part question, and part concern.  
  
Connor's whole body twitched, and his face came up in fright. Obviously he hadn't realized the vampire had come so close.  
  
Fright quickly descended into fury, and seconds later Angel found himself pinned to the wall, Connor's thin fists gripping the lapel's of his duster.   
  
Shocked, Angel checked the boy's face for an explanation. Connor's eyes were filled with tears, and his face was horribly distorted.   
  
A new kind of panic welled up and overtook Angel as a new set of memories surfaced: the quiet but persistent echoes of shifting ocean, dim shadows of drifting seaweed, dreamy hallucinations of what it had felt like to be able to move.  
  
Memories Angel had desperately tried to repress for the sake of his own mental health.  
  
Without thought he let loose a cry of fear, vamped out, and used all of his strength to wildly shove, claw and kick Connor away.   
  
Somehow Connor ended up on floor with the blade of the axe against his throat, looking up at his father in shock.  
  
The vampire's yellow eyes darted unfocussed about the room, and quick, shallow, not strictly necessary breaths came raggedly through parted lips, lips that revealed long white fangs. He was shaking. Connor could smell the vampires sweat.  
  
Connor froze as his instincts began to fight a war within. Part of him wanted to run. Demon! It screamed. Instinctively he knew that that a serious fight with the vampire would only end in his own destruction, which meant his only option was to run.. 'Survival of the fittest' was a concept that Connor was all too familiar with.   
  
A smaller part of him, the part that had been developing a relationship with Angel over the last three months, wondered where the mild mannered father figure, who had seemed to possess endless wells of understanding and patience, had suddenly disappeared to.   
  
Another part of him understood that if he so much as twitched a muscle, he would lose his head.  
  
Somehow the father figure had been replaced by a frightened, unpredictable animal.  
  
This was only the second time Angel had shown Connor his true face. He hadn't seen it in months and had almost forgotten what it looked like. The first time, Angel had only vamped out because Connor had bullied him into demonstrating what it looked like.   
  
This was different. This was the real thing. The vicious demon that his foster father had warned him of.  
  
So Connor froze, unsure and terrified.   
  
The moments blended together until Connor thought he would scream.  
  
Then, quite suddenly, Angel's eyes stopped darting about and fixed on Connor's. Connor still did not move. Holding the vampires gaze as if trying to hypnotize him, he witnessed his father's return from madness, and welcomed it with relief. It was a subtle thing. The face did not return to it's human form. It was merely the expression that changed. Yellow eyes glossed over with tears.  
  
Then suddenly, with one violent move, the vampire drew back the axe then slammed in into the floorboards just right of Connor's head. Connor made a muffled sound, part fear, part relief. He heard a thump, and sat up to find that Angel was on his knees, head down, hands covering his face.  
  
Connor moved toward him, still wary of the demon, even though he sensed that the danger had passed.  
  
He reached out to touch his father's hair, but flinched back when the vampire's head snapped up, anguished brown eyes shining with tears.  
  
"Don't you ever do that again!" he yelled.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"No! Not Okay! Why did you do that?"  
  
He looked like he was going to have a nervous breakdown. Holtz had worn that same expression when Connor had gone out to fight Guk demons alone, just for fun, at the age of five. It was the look of a parent terrified of losing a child.  
  
And Connor remembered, "Because you keep secrets!"  
  
Angel looked dumbfounded, "You threw me against a wall because I keep secrets?! What kind of reason is that? I could've killed you!"  
  
"You should have told me about Holtz!"  
  
Now Angel just looked confused, "Told you about Holtz? What about him? You mean what I did to him? I would have thought he'd given you all the details. Probably on a regular basis. He was obsessive that way."  
  
"You never told me he killed people. You never told me he ordered Justine to kill Wesley!"  
  
Angel stared, still dumbfounded. Then took a deep breath. "Oh. That." he paused, "What else did Wesley tell you today?" he asked carefully.  
  
"I haven't seen Wesley since he came over before." Connor replied, not missing a beat.  
  
Angel was impressed with the kid's lying skills.   
  
"What else did Wesley tell you?" he asked again.  
  
Guilt finally reached Conner's eyes as he realized he'd somehow been caught out in the lie. "Some things about Sahjahn."  
  
"What things?"  
  
Connor gave Angel a shrewd look.  
  
"That he changed the prophecy you were talking about before. That he's trapped in an urn."  
  
"What else?"  
  
"Holtz killing. Ordering people killed."  
  
"What else?"  
  
"I left after that."  
  
Angel nodded, looking pensive. Five thoughts were making their way around the vampire's head.   
  
The first was that Wesley was betraying him all over again by giving Connor information behind his back.   
  
The second was that maybe Wesley had the right idea giving Connor more information. It might be better if the boy was allowed to deal with his own history sooner rather than later. Perhaps the cautious approach had been the wrong one.  
  
The third was a memory of what it had felt like to smother Wesley with a pillow.   
  
The fourth was another memory, this one of the day he had hired Wesley. The ex-watcher had declared himself Angel's faithful servant with shining eyes.   
  
The fifth was that Connor needed therapy of some kind, the boy's mood swings were still unpredictable and dangerous.   
  
Connor was keeping his distance, watching his father warily.  
  
Angel sensed the tension and attempted to diffuse it.  
  
"It's okay. I won't attack you." he said softly, as if Connor were a frightened cat, "you just scared me before. That's all.  
  
Connor raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Then he began to yell.   
  
"I scared you? Do you have any idea what you looked like?! I scared you?!"  
  
"I'm sorry." Angel replied quietly.  
  
Connor just continued to stare in disbelief as he forced himself to calmness. Then he looked down at his shoes.  
  
"I didn't mean to scare you." He mumbled after a moment. Then he looked his father in the eye. "I just feel . . . .crazy. It's like the world keeps changing. And every time I think I have it figured out, I find out something else that changes it all again. Things used to feel so certain, but now . . . . people I've trusted turn out to be murderers! Murderers turn out to be saviors! And nothing makes sense! I just need you to tell me everything. All of it."  
  
Angel sighed. He glanced around the room, feeling like he needed backup. Cordelia wasn't there. He let his eyes rest on Connor. He began to speak, slowly and deliberately.  
  
"Look. Connor. I've held things back from you. I have, and I'm sorry. It's not that I'm trying to keep secrets from you. It's just that there are some conversations that I'm not ready for. I don't want to . . . .to scare you away. You mean so much to me. I don't know if you've even realized how much, and I don't know if I could handle losing you again. And you react to things. You hear something you don't like, and people get hurt. I mean look at what just happened here."   
  
Connor was looking like the scared cat again, a scared cat that might scratch if you tried to pick it up and hold it.   
  
"I didn't know you would react that way. I've never seen you like that before. It was like you weren't even there."  
  
"You've seen the fangs before."  
  
"This is different. You don't go like that when you're fighting demons. Why with me?"  
  
"You scared me."  
  
"I pushed you into a wall." Connor pointed out. He found it difficult to believe that such a small act of violence could have provoked such an extreme response.  
  
"It wasn't that. I can handle being pushed into a wall." Angel replied carefully. He took a deep breath, "It was your face. That look. The last time I saw it like that . . " he stopped. Unable to finish the sentence.  
  
Connor's eyebrows knitted together as he tried to understand. Angel was looking down in shame.   
  
Suddenly it became clear. The last time Connor had let emotions like these control him was six months ago at the beach.  
  
"The coffin in the sea?"  
  
"Yes." Angel confirmed.  
  
Horror entered Connor's eyes as it suddenly struck him how big an impact being trapped like that had had on Angel.   
  
The vampire had never talked about it, and Connor had never been keen to bring the topic up. Angel had sworn never to tell anyone about Connor's part in the incident, and that had been the end of it.  
  
Now Connor realized that information on Holtz was not the only thing Angel had been hiding from him.  
  
"But. . .but you know that I wouldn't. . . . you didn't think that I . . . . .I thought it was behind us. We had that talk! We were training. You said . . . .you said. . . "  
  
"I said what?"  
  
"You said that you forgave me!"  
  
Angel's head snapped up at this. He looked closely at his son. Studied the thin frame, big blue eyes, thin brown hair, anxious expression.   
  
Had he forgiven him? Really in his heart forgiven him?  
  
Yes. He had.  
  
Angel's behavior had nothing to do with resentment. It stemmed from the fact that he was still traumatized by the fear. Fear of being alone and unable to move for all eternity.   
But he had forgiven Connor a long time ago. Separating the boy from the act in his mind.   
  
He looked Connor in the eye. He was right. He did need the truth.  
  
"I meant it Connor. I didn't lie about that. I forgave you right at the start. But what you did to me, I can't just make those memories go away." He could feel his voice shaking, and his chest constricting, as he clarified his feelings, not just for Connor, but also for himself, in his own mind.   
  
"I can't . . . .can't just forget that it happened. I was trapped in a coffin! I didn't know if I'd be rescued, or if I'd just be alone and unable to move forever.   
  
"I didn't know if you'd figure out what really happened or if you'd just grow old and die without ever learning the truth.   
  
"I was terrified. I've never been so terrified. And fears like that. Fears like that don't just go away when the horror's over. I hear water filling a bathtub, and I get nervous. I smell the sea, I get claustrophobic. I see the sand on the beach, and I get scared. I see that look on your face. . . . I lose it completely.   
  
"It's the look that haunted me for months. I have it etched into my brain!"  
  
Connor listened in horrified silence and for the first time understood the full extent of what he had done.  
  
Back then he hadn't really thought of Angel as a person, let alone considered what he might be experiencing emotionally. He had wanted to punish him. He had been thinking of Holtz. Thinking that Holtz would be proud of him. It made him sick.  
  
"I'm sorry." he blurted, "I've said it before, but I never really understood. I'm sorry."  
  
Angel looked sad. "I know you are. I don't blame you for what happened. I only told you all that because you said you needed to know. And I didn't mean to go crazy on you like that before. I didn't want you to see me that way."  
  
"You wanted to hide it from me? Hide what I did to you? Like you hid what Holtz did? Who Sahjhan was?"  
  
"You have enough to deal with."  
  
Connor stood and looked down at his father, suddenly becoming very passionate as he spoke.  
  
"But I need to know. I need to know so that I can understand. You. Wesley. How this world works. You hired Wesley to give me an education, but you hold back the things that I need to know. You need to teach me."  
  
Angel listened quietly, trying to shake off the emotions that speaking about the coffin had aroused. He felt liberated having finally been able to share them. With the perpetrator of the crime no less. He glanced up at Connor to find him looking down on him imploringly. The scared cat had evaporated. Then Angel also stood.  
  
"Then I'll teach you."  
  
Connor looked part relieved part worried.  
  
"Starting right now?" he demanded, wary and unsure.  
  
Angel smiled, "Right now." he repeated. "Okay. What do you need to know? Um."  
  
"About Wesley. Why you don't talk to him."  
  
"Wesley, right. Wesley! I, I have to call Wesley. I found out how we get Cordy back. The powers, or an old . . .friend. . . .who speaks for the powers, said that I had to go back to the freeway. Create a temporal fold."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"It means I need Wesley, 'cause I don't know how to create temporal folds. I'll call him now."  
  
He rushed over to the phone, leaving Connor half disappointed that Angel hadn't begun to confide in him, and half hoping that the lead to Cordy panned out.   
  
The seer had cleansed him of many of the horrors of Quor Toth. Maybe she could cleanse Angel of his underwater issues. He remembered what it had felt like to have the pure white light flow through him. He wanted that for his father.  
  
"Dad?" he asked, as Angel began to dial.  
  
"Connor I'm sorry. I'll explain the whole Wesley thing soon, but right now . . ."  
  
"I love you."  
  
Angel stopped dialing. Connor had never said that before.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
  
Galway, 1753  
  
"Liam! It's Sunday Mornin'! You should be at church!"  
  
Liam spun around on the street to find Thomas Avery strutting toward him.  
  
"And what about yerself?! You must have over a thousand sins to confess at this time!"  
  
"Nothin' to equal the exploits of young master Liam here!"  
  
Thomas grabbed Liam by the collar and gave him a good natured shake. Liam laughed and shoved the young blacksmith away. They began to walk along in a companionable way.  
  
"Thought I'd treat meself to a stroll outdoors this mornin' Rarely see such beautiful mornin's anymore." said Liam. He took a deep breath of fresh air to demonstrate just how good the morning was.  
  
"Could be somthin' to do with the regular hangovers you've been experiencing of late." said Thomas with a wink. "Hmm. And after last week I'd think you'd be doing quite a bit of struttin' about!" he winked, and laughed in a conspiratory manner.  
  
"What's that?" asked Liam with a frown.  
  
"I've heard the rumors Liam. You and the servin' girl. Anna? She's a fine one she is. With those eyes. At I'm bettin' she's just as fine beneath the skirt! How'd you get her? Sweet words? Promises? I'd like to know your secret. Wouldn't mind beddin' that one meself."  
  
"There's a rumor about that?" asked Liam. "Who began that then?"  
  
"I woulda thought it'd be you." said Thomas, looking confused.  
  
"No. I didn't want me father knowin' of it." Liam stopped walking and turned to face his friend, "Tell this to no one." he said.  
  
"Too late my friend. Word spreads in small towns as they say." He clapped Liam on the shoulder, "What's to be frownin' of? It's not as if ye had a reputation to uphold."  
  
Liam allowed himself a small grin at this.  
  
"There's my lad," Thomas responded.  
  
Liam frowned again, "The girl might though." he said.  
  
"Might what?"  
  
"Have a reputation to uphold," said Liam thoughtfully.  
  
"Oh cheer up Liam!" said Thomas, as though Liam's contrition were foolish, "I've just the thing for ya."  
  
"And what's that then?" Liam responded.  
  
"Tonight at the Golden Goose. I'll treat ya to an ale or three. A bad woman on a good bed. You'll be feelin' fine!"  
  
The Golden Goose was the most expensive tavern in the area.  
  
Liam just laughed, "Not that I'm turning you down, but how're you payin' for this again? You'd hardly have the customers linin' up. You've a reputation of your own!"  
  
"Aye that's true. But unlike some, at least I can claim I have a profession." Thomas answered smugly.  
  
Liam just laughed and continued to walk, now with a spring in his step.  
  
  
TBC  
  
Thanks to all those still readng this, and sorry this took so long to   
post. My Uni work kind of caught up with me and got in the way.  
  
I'd love a review if you are inclined. Love reviews. I'm becoming a   
review junkie you might say. Come on, it'll only take a few seconds!  
  
Sorry I haven't brought Cordy back yet. I have plans for her though!   
Never fear!  
  
Oh, and in case it wasn't clear, the "friend" who speaks for the powers   
was actually Skip. The only reason I didn't spell that out was because   
Connor doesn't know Skip, so the name would be pretty meaningless to him. 


	5. The plot Thickens

Disclaimer: They belong to the WB etc.  
  
Summary: This is the fifth installment, or chapter 8, depending on your point of view. We have a bit of a BTVS crossover for you, and finally some action sequences! Also, the return of Cordy!  
  
Cordy's still missing, Lorne is still in Vegas, Connor has learned the truth, and Angel and Wesley have started to patch things up. To learn more, read the damn story. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 8  
  
  
L.A. 2002  
  
Anya surveyed the group sitting before her. Angel and Wesley she knew, but the other three were complete strangers. All of them stared at her. Some surprised, some wary.   
  
She guessed Buffy hadn't mentioned that she would be teleporting into Wesley's sitting room when she'd told Angel that help was on the way.  
  
Buffy had called into the magic shop around six at night saying that she had just received a call from Angel.  
  
Buffy hadn't been too clear on exactly what was wrong with the vampire, and Anya had assumed that this was due to communication problems between the ex-lovers, but she had told Anya that Cordelia had gone missing, and that the Angel Investigations team needed to create a temporal fold in order to find her.  
  
Angel had called asking to speak to Willow, unaware that the young witch was currently in England undergoing a ritual cleansing process with a Wiccan group there, and would not be creating temporal folds anytime in the near future.  
  
Buffy had told him that she would send Anya, as the vengeance demon had skill enough with magic to be able to create the fold.  
  
Anya had not been terribly enthusiastic about the mission, having no real personnel ties to any of the L.A fang gang, but she had seen no reason why she should not help them. She had known Cordelia briefly and liked the young woman, despite the general attitude of the Scooby Gang toward her.  
  
But despite her willingness to help find the seer, Anya had decided to keep her eyes open at all times. She remembered Buffy's words from before she had teleported out of the Magic Box.  
  
"Just . . .be careful. Angel was kinda weird on the phone. Like there was stuff he was trying to avoid talking about. It's probably nothing, but . . . .just be careful okay?"  
  
"Yes," Anya had replied, "and be careful with my money when you close the store."  
  
Now she was in Wesley's living room.  
  
"Hi," she said in an upbeat way, trying to break the awkward silence.  
  
"How'd ya do that?!" asked a thin woman with glasses and a Texan accent.  
  
"It's called teleporting!"  
  
"Wow," said a tall African American who stood casually beside a bookcase, regarding her with awe. "Beats the bus. So you're the chick from Sunnydale?"  
  
"Gunn this is Anya," Wesley interrupted smoothly, standing from the couch, "Anya this is Gunn, Fred, and Connor."  
  
"Pleased to meet you!" said Fred enthusiastically, also standing and shaking Anya's hand.  
  
"Hey," said Gunn, raising his hand in a gesture of greeting.  
  
"Pleased to meet you." said Anya correctly.  
  
Connor remained seated and looked suspicious, but nodded slightly in her direction.  
  
"So, you got your powers back." said Angel, speaking for the first time from where he stood by the wall, and giving her a expressionless look.  
  
"Anya is a vengeance demon," Wesley explained for the benefit of the others. "She can grant wishes to those who have been wronged by their lovers. Or she could until her powers were lost. But I suppose you can grant wishes again now? If your powers have been restored."  
  
Gunn's eyebrows rose, Connor looked even more suspicious, Angel kept glancing at the boy with a worried expression.  
  
"Yes my powers have been restored," said Anya brightly, trying to break the tension.  
  
Awkward silence followed. Angel shifted on his feet and looked like he was trying to think of something to say.  
  
"Thanks for comin'," he finally managed, "Um, Buffy told you about what's going on? That we need to create a temporal fold?"  
  
"To find Cordelia, yes. But that's all she told me. I need a little more information if I'm going to help you. Plus the ingredients for the spell, and a second to cast it with."  
  
"Yes, I've already located the spell," said Wesley hurrying over to the coffee table and moving Connor's hot chocolate aside so he could reach a large leather bound book with yellowing pages. "It's all right here, Gunn, if you and Fred could buy the ingredients?" He passed the book to Gunn  
  
Gunn glanced at Angel, who nodded slightly, before he accepted Wesley's order.  
  
"Sure thing. C'mon girl, let go," he said.  
  
Fred quickly smiled at Wesley before following Gunn from the room.   
  
"And I'll be your second," said Wesley to Anya, who was watching the pair leave, curiously wondering who was in charge here.   
  
At first glance it was Wesley, but a closer examination revealed Angel as head honcho of the operation.  
  
"What now?" said Connor, abruptly speaking for the first time and making Anya jump.  
  
"Now someone explains how Cordelia went missing and why you think that a temporal fold will bring her back," said Anya, looking not at Connor, but at Angel.  
  
"We don't know how she went missing," the vampire replied. "She just disappeared about six months ago. We found her car on the freeway, empty. It was like she literally just vanished. We found a prophesy that relates to time manipulation, a, ah, what was it?"  
  
"A tefson," said Wesley helpfully.  
  
"A time alteration," said Anya, looking thoughtful. "You think that there was some sort of spell that took Cordelia to some unknown time."  
  
"Right, and we're also hoping that we're the ones who cast it, and that we're going to bring her to this time," said Angel.  
  
"So how will a temporal fold bring her back?" Anya asked reasonably, "I mean usually people use them to look into the future, or retrieve lost objects from the past, a necklace for example, but I've never heard of anyone using a temporal fold to bring back a lost person."  
  
"Why not?" asked Connor.  
  
"It's complicated," said Wesley, "For one to use a temporal fold to time travel, the traveler must be a willing third participant in the spell. Someone separate from the two who cast it.   
  
"As a person lost in the past has no way of knowing that we in the future are casting the spell, it is impossible for them to participate willingly at all."  
  
"Temporal folds are no good for bringing back people from the past. You need someone with a lot more magical talent than I have to bring an unwilling person here from the past." said Anya, "Willow might have been able to do it but . . ." she left the sentence unfinished.  
  
"Which is why we're not bringing Cordelia here right away. We're sending me to her time so that I can bring her back," said Angel.  
  
"That's what Skip told you to do?" asked Wesley.  
  
Angel had not yet shared the whole conversation he'd had with Skip.   
  
He'd arrived at Wesley's with Connor in tow, paged Fred and Gunn, told his friends that they needed to create a temporal fold, ascertained that none of them had the magical skill, called Sunnydale, then set everyone to work researching the spell. After that Anya had arrived.  
  
"He told me a lot of things," Angel said mysteriously. "He said that he was with Cordelia in the past, that he had her prepared to go forward to this time that we're in now. All we have to do, is go to the freeway, create the fold, send me back in time to where Cordelia was lost, then keep the fold . . .folded, until I can bring her back." He gestured toward Anya and Wesley. "You just can't break the circle until we return."  
  
"We won't," said Wesley.  
  
"We won't?" asked Anya. "What if something goes wrong and they take days?"  
  
"Then I'll wait for days," Wesley responded, looking at Angel.  
  
A memory surfaced in Angel's mind, *I'm your faithful servant Angel*, Wesley had once said. How long ago had that been?  
  
Connor was staring at Anya.  
  
"What?" she demanded, feeling his eyes boring into the side of her head.  
  
"Why don't we just wish her back?" he asked logically.  
  
"What's that?" asked Wesley.  
  
"The vengeance demon grants wishes. Why can't we wish Cordelia back."  
  
"I grant wishes to women scorned by men," said Anya indignantly, "not just anyone with a friend who's disappeared! Maybe men scorned by women too. I'm still figuring out my stance on that one."  
  
"Anyone been scorned by a lover lately?" asked Angel, not really expecting an answer. Which is why he was surprised when Wesley opened his mouth to reply before thinking better of it.  
  
"Somethin' you wanna tell us Wes?" he asked.  
  
Anya felt the hair on the back of her neck rising for some reason. Connor obviously felt it too because he was glancing from Angel to Wesley in obvious distress. Anya wondered what the kid's deal was. He didn't look old enough to be out of school. Did he have parents? What was he doing hanging out with paranormal detectives after hours?  
  
At that moment Fred and Gunn burst into the room with the ingredients for the spell.  
  
"We got em!" Fred exclaimed, "Can we get Cordy back now?"  
  
"Yeah, and the sooner the better because I for one will be glad to never see these chicken feet again." Said Gunn, disdainfully holding up the apparatus in question.  
  
"Let's go," said Wesley, ignoring the fact that Angel's intense gaze was on him, and leading the way to Gunn's truck and Angel's convertible.  
  
Everyone piled out after him.  
  
Angel was the last to leave the apartment, and before he did, he sniffed the room carefully, picking up a disturbing scent.   
  
He paused for a moment, trying to be rational about what it might mean, but failing to come up with a reasonable explanation for it.  
  
Lilah had been here.  
  
  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Justine sat on the gravestone turning the urn over in her hands.  
  
Within this urn was a demon that if freed, would be capable of hurting Angelus far more than she.  
  
And she needed that.  
  
Daniel Holtz had died, by her hand no less, to have his revenge on Angelus taken out by his foster son. But that plan had failed, and Daniel had died for nothing.  
  
Now it was Justine's responsibility to see that Angelus paid for his crimes.  
  
Three months in the ocean was hardly punishment enough for the hundreds of murders the vampire had committed. Daniel's dead family deserved more than that. The vampire had to be destroyed.  
  
When Justine had first heard that the vampire was back on the streets, she had staked out the hotel, waiting to see what had become of Stephen, or Conner as he was now calling himself to please those he lived with.  
  
She needed the boy to help her. She couldn't hurt Angelus alone.  
  
When he had not emerged from the hotel after two months, Justine had presumed the boy dead. Murdered by Angelus as payback for throwing him into the sea, despite his claims of love and forgiveness.  
  
She had felt that she had failed Daniel in every way. Not only was Angelus still alive, but the boy that Daniel had raised and loved had been killed by the same vamp that had taken his first family.  
  
She had failed.  
  
Depression had hit, and Justine had fallen back on her old habits of drinking, sleeping through the day, and obsessively patrolling graveyards and staking the disoriented vamps that rose from the ground there.  
  
Every now and again, she would still visit the Hyperion, wishing that she possessed Daniel's skills for planning and inspiring others. She could not take Angelus on alone. And the fact that he had not even bothered to come after her suggested that he did not consider her to be a threat now that Stephen had been taken from her.  
  
And Angel had been rejoined by Wesley.   
  
The first day she had seen the tall man wearing glasses and an angry red scar across his neck enter the hotel had been the last day she had waited for Stephen.  
  
Wesley had made steps toward reconciliation with his friends. He would be at the hotel on a regular basis. They were piecing there lives together, while she was completely alone. And she couldn't bear seeing the scar too often. It reminded her of what she was becoming. So her stakeouts became less frequent.  
  
But today she had seen Stephen alive.  
  
On one of her now rare visits to the Hyperion hotel, she had witnessed the boy and his father leave the hotel together, and jump into the black convertible.  
  
Their expressions had been anxious yet hopeful, but above all, they had been a unit. The animosity had evaporated somehow between the two.  
  
Justine had been stunned. The boy's hatred of the vampire had been intense. How could he have joined him?!  
  
Stephen had indeed been destroyed by Angelus. Replaced by Connor, the faithful son.  
  
Somehow it seemed worse this way than it would have been if the boy really had been dead. Angelus had managed to turn the innocent boy to his cause. What would Daniel have said?  
  
So now Justine sat on a gravestone, considering her last resort: the urn.  
  
Daniel had once made a deal with this demon in the name of vengeance. Could she? Would she follow his example?  
  
Just then, the ground at her feet began to shift.  
  
Ms. Evans was waking up.  
  
Justine set the urn down on the gravestone, forgotten for the moment as she pulled a stake out of her jacket, and took on a fighters stance, tense and ready.  
  
Evan's chest made it out of the ground, and Justine made a dive for the heart.  
  
She was a tad too slow however, because the growling vampire managed to get clear of the ground before Justine had a chance to dust her.  
  
She hit the loose dirt with a grunt as the vampire skittered to the side.  
  
The red head was back on her feet in seconds though, readying for the inevitable attack.  
  
Vampire and human exchanged violent blows. The vampire strong but clumsy with confusion, the human made strong and precise by pent rage.  
  
The fight didn't last long, and ended with Justine managing to stake the vamp as it pushed her backward toward its own headstone.  
  
Justine coughed on the dust as she fell.  
  
She landed on the stone at a bad angle, and felt something crack beneath her.  
  
The urn, she realized as she slipped to the ground, gasping in pain.  
  
She lay frozen on the ground, waiting for the pain to subside, and breathing heavily.  
  
Then she jerked in fright as a familiar voice said;  
  
"Hey, thanks for letting me out! This is more like it!"  
  
  
Galway 1753  
  
Jim sat in the church and listened to the priest. The reading was a familiar one. The tale of the prodigal son.  
  
Liam should be here, he thought. This was particularly relevant to him.  
  
But Liam rarely attended church.  
  
Jim glanced at Anna.  
  
The girl sat ramrod straight, looking ahead with what looked like great concentration. He wondered what sins she would be confessing to today. He'd heard the rumors.  
  
He wasn't one to retrench a young woman based on speculation, but he was unhappy about the degrading image it had brought upon his house.  
  
Liam really should have been there.  
  
He glanced at Katherine.  
  
She was fidgeting a little. Bored, but not being impolite about it. She was sitting at the edge of the row next to her mother.  
  
Her clothing was gorgeous, as befitted the daughter of a silk merchant on a Sunday morning. Her hair was decorated with red ribbons. Jim smiled slightly.  
  
He faced front again, and glanced at the bible he held.  
  
The priest continued to speak. Father Baker his was called. New to the order. Young and nervous.  
  
The old priest, Father Moore had died three weeks ago of a weak heart. The entire town had attended the funeral. He had been well liked and respected. Liam had actually looked bored that day. He had barely known what the man had looked like.   
  
Father Baker had ridden in the next week from Dublin, and had yet to really make an impression on the townspeople.   
  
Katherine discretely tried to cover a yawn. Then gave her father a guilty look.  
  
He frowned, though he did not really feel any disappointment in the girl. She was young. At her age it was difficult to be attentive for an entire service. Besides, in comparison to her brother, the girl was an Angel.  
  
Suddenly Jim noticed that Baker's words were faltering. The man was beginning to stutter.  
  
Jim looked up to find that he could not see the priest, for a dark red swirling light had sprung up between the preacher and his audience. Jim gaped, and heard the cries of several women behind him, and a pounding of feet as those who were inclined ran from the terrifying sight.  
  
"Satan's work!" someone cried.  
  
Surprise quickly descended into fear as Jim glanced at Katherine. He and his family made a habit of sitting close to the preacher at church, a sign of good faith and enthusiasm for God's teachings he had always thought. But now it seemed to be a lethal mistake. They were seated directly before the red mass.  
  
Jim fought an urge to hurtle over the back of the bench and run screaming. The light was as tall as he, and belatedly he realized that it was not just a light, but a tunnel!  
  
"Katherine!" he cried. Partly because he was afraid for his child's safety, and partly because she was at the edge of the row and needed to move so that the rest of the family could escape.  
  
One look at the girl suggested that moving was not on the top of the list of things she might do.  
  
She was frozen. Her mother was trying coax her into moving but no avail.  
  
Anna had given into the urge to jump over the back of her seat so that she could run, but her dress had caught on something, so she hadn't gone far.  
  
She cried out, and Jim realized that he could not hear a word she said. The tunnel was making a sound like water rushing down a riverbed during a storm, and all else was drowned out. Wind blew about as if they were in a gale.  
  
"Katherine!" he cried out again, and moved toward his wife and daughter.  
  
Gently he pried his wife away from the girl and indicated that she should flee with the rest of the crowd. He would carry Katherine. Reluctantly, she followed the directive.  
  
He reached down to pick the child up, but to his horror, she was being raised from the bench by the wind.  
  
The tunnel was trying to take her!  
  
She screamed "Father!"  
  
Tears of fear were running down her pale cheeks.  
  
His cries of horror were incoherent.  
  
His hands tried to catch her, and hold her, but only scraped across the material of her dress as she was pulled away through the air! The wind making her hair fly in all directions..  
  
He gasped as she vanished.  
  
Then stood there in shock as the wind, the sound, and finally the light, faded away.  
  
He was disheveled and alone.  
  
"What is that!" someone cried.  
  
"The tunnel! It took the girl!"  
  
Jim tried to focus on the voices, but Katherine's image was all he could see.  
  
"It's a demon!"  
  
"It's moving!"  
  
"It's a woman!"  
  
And finally Jim's gaze fell to the figure on the floor.  
  
It was not Katherine, but a young woman dressed it what must once have been white robes. Now they were torn, and bloodied, and burned. As was her skin. Her hair was short, and light.  
  
Jim could see how one might think she was a demon.  
  
She moved once, twice. Then she stilled. Most likely dead.  
  
Jim's vision blurred as tears filled his eyes.  
  
Then he let out a cry of anguish.  
  
Katherine was gone!  
  
  
  
Thanx for reading. Once again I'd love a review!  
  
You can say whatever you like.  
  
If you like continue with the praising!  
  
If you see any problems, feel free to point them out. 


	6. The portal

Disclaimer: They belong to the WB etc.  
  
Summary: Installment no. 6. We have Angel and Cordy reunited briefly as the end of the last chapter is explained. Also, there is a certain prophesy that is filled in this chapter!  
  
Lorne is still in Vegas, Connor has learned the truth, and Angel and Wesley have started to patch things up. To learn more, read the damn story. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 10.  
  
Connor watched curiously as Anya poured the sacred sand. She was walking backward with dainty little steps, bending at the waist so that the opening of the jar was close to the road.  
  
"So," said Fred brightly, "how long ya been a vengeance demon?"  
  
"About 1123 years," Anya answered in a similar tone, tipping her sand jar upright and straightening up to survey her work.  
  
The sand was poured in a perfect circle, but was being blown awry a little by the wind.  
  
The sound of a passing car made Connor glance at his father nervously.  
  
Angel, Gunn and Wesley had somehow managed to get hold of some reflective vests, orange witches hats, and yellow street signs with "Stop" and "Slow down" written on them.  
  
They seemed to be enjoying their control of the traffic, putting on shows of importance, and giving each other little smiles as they explained to the frustrated drivers that there were roadworks ahead, so two lanes were going to be temporarily closed off.  
  
Connor just hoped they would be able to bluff their way past a police officer if the occasion warranted it.  
  
"All done!" Anya announced.   
  
Connor looked down to find that the circle had been completed. The spells ingredients were also layed out and good to go.   
  
All they needed now, was Wesley and Angel.  
  
Connor waved at his father, who was rather childishly standing on his toes, trying to see a new car on the horizon, a new driver to harass.   
  
He noticed Connor waving to him, and motioned to Wesley.  
  
The two approached, leaving Gunn to ward off any approaching cars.  
  
As had been planned, the two gave their vests to Fred and Connor, who truth be told, did not look threatening enough to stop traffic.  
  
Both were willow thin with pretty faces. Drivers would most likely ignore them and continue on their way.  
  
But they were better than nothing, and it had already been decided that Angel and Wesley were the right people to be casting the spell, so someone else had to deal with the irate drivers.  
  
Connor pulled the oversized vest over his head and turned to his father for approval.  
  
Angel looked at his son and his Texan housemate critically.  
  
"If they don't listen to you, just call Gunn," he suggested, in such a way that made Connor feel less than adequet.  
  
Connor nodded and walked away from the circle.  
  
Then he abruptly walked back and flung his arms around his fathers neck.  
  
Angel stiffened in surprise, then melted into the hug. If something went wrong, this could be the last time they were together. If something went wrong the newly discovered father/son relationship would be short lived.  
  
Suddenly Angel stiffened again and warmly patted Connor on the back. He'd suddenly realized that everyone was watching them.   
  
Fred with a smile. Anya with interest. Gunn from two lanes over with a raised eyebrow. Wesley with no expression at all.  
  
Connor was less self conscious than his father, and continued to hold on to him for a moment before suddenly releasing him, and walking away without saying a word, or even looking the vampire in the eye.  
  
He'd expressed what he needed to. He didn't need to make it appear as if he were saying goodbye.   
  
He turned away from the trio casting the spell, waiting warily for a car to approach.  
  
Two were coming now.  
  
He used his "Slow down" sign and liberal hand movements to fend them off to the side and into other lanes.  
  
Gunn had commented earlier that their job should be easy because the traffic was unusually slight.  
  
Connor could hear Anya and Wesley chanting, but couldn't make out the words. He couldn't be sure if they were speaking English or not. The spell had begun.  
  
He tried to concentrate on his task, but felt the muscles in his shoulders knotting up as the chanting grew in volume.  
  
He closed his eyes and listened to his senses. Were the words English? Could he smell Gunn's cologne? His fathers hair mousse? Could he hear Fred's racing heart? Could he feel the vibrations of cars disappearing down the freeway?  
  
The vibrations were strange. They were not cars then, but the spell taking effect.  
  
The smell was strange too. Like breath from an old demon.  
  
Demon!  
  
Connor's eyes snapped open. His fists clenched. He remained still as he regarded the creature standing not three inches from him.  
  
Large and blueish, with cracked skin and long dark hair, it smiled at him.  
  
Connor thought fast.  
  
Angel, Wesley and Anya were engrossed in the spell. Gunn and Fred had instinctively stayed together while fending off traffic, standing too far away, and facing the wrong direction to have noticed Connor's dilemma.  
  
"You know, I never expected to see you again!" said the demon in a friendly yet somehow threatening manor.  
  
Connor was reminded of Lorne, but reflected that this demon, while sociable in its tone, did not posses Lorne's natural good will.   
  
Suddenly Connor wondered why the green demon had left the hotel.  
  
"After your little vacation to hell I expected you to be long dead. What is it with this town? Nothing ever goes down how it's supposed to."  
  
"Who are you?" Connor asked through gritted teeth. He glanced at his father to make sure the spell was still going as planned.  
  
"A friend of your foster father's." said the demon with a grin.  
  
"He didn't make friends with demons."  
  
"Oh that's what he told you?" said the demon incredulously, "Well that hurts! For cryin' out loud the man was hypocrisy personified!"  
  
Connor reacted instinctively. He punched the demon in the nose.  
  
To his surprise the demon barely reacted.  
  
"Oh come on! That's all you got boy wonder?" he returned the punch and Connor was on the ground feeling the blood dripping from his nose. Thunder rumbled.  
  
Both boy and demon forgot what they were doing and glanced at the sky.  
  
It began to rain. Sheets of it. It mixed with Connors blood and trickled through his hair.  
  
"Hey!" came Gunn's voice from far away.  
  
Connor barely heard it though because the demon had punched him again. He felt groggy. He couldn't see through the rain. It dripped from his eyelashes.  
  
The demon laughed. "How could such a pathetic little headcase ever be a threat to me? After all this, it's almost too easy!"  
  
He pulled his fist back for a killing blow.  
  
Connor reacted just in time, blocking the blow with the "Slow Down" sign, then using it to jab the demon hard in the torso. It was a move his father had taught him with a quarterstaff a few weeks ago.  
  
Again the demon was barely effected though, and most likely would have killed the boy with the next blow if he hadn't been distracted by Gunn's cry of "Sahjahn!" and the fact that the tall man had flung his arms around the demon's neck in a choke hold.  
  
Connor heard a faint cry of "Charles!" as he tried to get to his feet. But his legs felt like wet paper and somehow seemed to be tangling together, and getting in the way of each other, so he fell back down with a wet thud. His ears were ringing.  
  
Suddenly Fred was colliding into him. She'd been thrown at him by the demon when she'd run to Gunn's defense.  
  
Long, dark, knotted hair was wrapping itself around his fists. He tried to disentangle himself, but Fred was moving too much and he just ended up pulling at her head.  
  
"Ak!" she cried.  
  
Sounds of the fight between Gunn and Sahjahn continued. Connor could hear the demon laughing, punctuated with the occasional grunt from Gunn. It was not encouraging.  
  
"Who is Sahjahn?" he murmured softly, feeling darkness invade his mind. He'd be unconscious in a moment.  
  
Which was why he was not terribly surprised to see a shining light rise up at the edge of his vision.  
  
He starred at it's beauty mesmerized. It was as if time had stopped, and the light was all there was.  
  
"What's that?" he heard the demon ask, followed by a thud and the sound of Gunn gasping through water. Reality had come rushing back.  
  
The bulky form of the demon blocked Connor's view of the light for a second and he craned his neck for a better view.  
  
That's when he remembered.  
  
The spell!  
  
Sahjahn was going to ruin the spell!  
  
The light was the portal that his father needed to jump through. If Anya and Wesley broke the circle before his father could bring Cordelia back, Angel would be trapped in the past forever. "Frozen in the instant," was the way that Wesley had described it. Connor wasn't sure, but he thought it sounded worse than being trapped in a box in the ocean forever.  
  
"Nooo!" he cried out, too softly for anyone but Fred to hear. His voice didn't seem to be working the way it should.  
  
Sahjahn said a word that reverberated through the rain soaked air.. It wasn't English, but it was short and to the point, and whatever it was, it made the light change from holy white, to blood red.  
  
"No," Conner said again.   
  
He heard a scream, and slowly realized that it was his father. The scream was cut off abruptly.  
  
He heard Sahjahn laugh.  
  
"How will ya protect him now ya big dumbass!" the demon cried gleefully.  
  
Fred was untangling her hair and managed to remove herself from Connor, giving him a clearer view of the proceedings.  
  
Sahjahn was standing triumphantly over Wesley and Anya. Wesley's glasses were off, the water had to have been blinding him while he wore them. His face was pale and shocked.  
  
Anya was looking at Sahjahn in mild terror.  
  
Angel was nowhere to be seen.  
  
The circle was most definitely broken.  
  
And the whole scene was bathed in an eery red light, scattered by the rain.  
  
Fred was crying over an immobile Gunn. He was still alive. Connor could sense the beating heart. But he wasn't sure if Fred was aware of this.  
  
More light entered the scene near the portal as Anya teleported.  
  
For a moment Connor was furious, assuming that the vengeance demon was making her escape.  
  
But then she reappeared behind Sahjahn and shoved him toward the portal just as it began to close.  
  
The demon did not disappear as Angel must have done only seconds earlier, the portal was no longer big enough for that.  
  
Instead he was thrown back by the energies and slumped to the road unconscious.  
  
The portal closed.  
  
"Take that you irritating big blue demon!" cried Anya.  
  
The cry was followed by the empty sound of falling rain.  
  
Those still conscious were trying to come to terms with what had just occurred.  
  
Angel was lost.  
  
Cordy was still missing.  
  
Gunn was not moving.  
  
Neither was Sahjahn.  
  
Suddenly Connor grasped the yellow "Slow Down" sign in his bony fist.  
  
He stood, and with an expression of pure fury on his face marched to the unconscious demon and plunged the sign into it's heart.  
  
It didn't move, but Connor sensed its death. Handy skill.  
  
He stared. There was something morbidly comical about a dead demon with a "Slow Down" sign sticking out of its chest. But no one laughed. Connor's own breath was coming out in gasps.  
  
For a long time no one moved.  
  
The rain continued to fall.  
  
"I think she needs help," said Anya finally.  
  
Connor wondered who "she" was for a moment before noticing the crumpled heap of soaked cloth lying on the road. It shivered and sobbed, and he realized that it was in fact a tiny human girl.  
  
Had she come from the portal?  
  
  
  
  
  
L.A, 2002 (6 months earlier).  
  
Cordelia felt her body grow light as the familiar feeling having the ground taken out from under her feet came to her.  
  
She looked down to find that she was floating. Only this time she was continuing to rise, rather than floating right back on down as she had in the past.  
  
She was filled with apprehension. Hope. Sadness. Longing.  
  
She knew that she would never see Angel again. That she would never be able tell him what she felt. To find out if her feelings were mutual.  
  
She knew he would be going mad with frustration trying to figure out what the hell had happened to her. She imagined him brooding as he realized that she would not be coming back. Would she be presumed dead?  
  
She wanted to sit the vampire down and explain to him what was happening. It made her heart ache to think that he would be waiting for her at point Dume. Even more that he might believe she had abandoned him.  
  
She continued to rise.  
  
Suddenly a feeling of wrongness came over her.  
  
She looked down and it dawned on her just how far away the ground was.  
If the PTB dropped her now she'd be jelly on the road. And she wouldn't put it past them either.  
  
"Skip!" she cried out.  
  
No one replied.  
  
She'd stopped rising though. She'd stopped, and she was trapped about a mile from the earth.  
  
She panicked.  
  
"SKIP!!!" she cried again, "Oh God oh God oh God!"  
  
To her horror the air around her seemed to crackle.  
  
Red bits of lightning were appearing so close that they singed her skin.  
  
"Ouch!" she exclaimed, slapping a hand down on her arm where the first one hit.  
  
"Okay, guys! This isn't funny! In fact it's not even remotely amusing! You do want me on your team right? This is not the best way to recruit people!"  
  
Fear cut through her as she yelled.  
  
Another lightning bolt struck.  
  
"You're scaring me!" She screamed.  
  
And at that moment the air around her exploded into red light, and she found herself flying through a tunnel.  
  
After barely a second to think about and deal with this she collided with something large and black.  
  
She grabbed onto it, desperate to cling to something solid, and belatedly realized that it was actually a black coat with a man inside it.  
  
Together they continued to fly through the tunnel, red lightning scorching them both, and Cordelia managed to move herself so that she was holding onto the man's neck, head placed firmly on his shoulder.. Her legs wrapped around his as she cried in fear. She felt strong arms wrap around her waist and realized with a start that this was Angel she was clinging to.  
  
She buried her nose in his neck and the smell of his cologne confirmed it.  
  
She wanted to say something, but the deafening rush around them prevented it. Another lightning bolt cut across her back and she sobbed. Angel gripped her tighter.  
  
The wind twisted them through the air.  
  
Suddenly it tore them apart.  
  
Cordelia caught a quick glimps of the vampire stretching his arms out in a desperate attempt to get her back, before the current stole him away.  
  
And then it was over.  
  
She collapsed in pain on the hard wood floor.  
  
The world turned black.   
  
  
  
TBC  
  
Okay, I know it's a bit shorter than usual, but I kinda wanted to get this chapter over with so that I could get to the fun parts with everybody stranded in the wrong time period.  
  
Yes that was Cordy in the church.  
  
Don't worry, I won't burn her at the stake. I like her too much for that.  
  
As usual please review. It only takes few seconds, but it gets me motivated so I be quicker with the getting up of new chapters.  
  
Thanks to all those who have reviewed it already. You guys rock!  
  
And special thanks to Angelfirenze who just keeps em comin' every chapter. Thanks dude!  
  
I'll try to get the next one up soon! 


	7. Waking up

Disclaimer: They belong to the WB etc.  
  
Summary: Installment no. 7. Okay, Kathy and Cordelia both wake up and respond to their surroundings  
  
Lorne is still in Vegas, Connor has learned the truth, and Angel and Wesley have started to patch things up. To learn more, read the damn story. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 11  
  
Galway, 1753  
  
Father Jack Baker gazed down at his new charge wondering what in God's name he was to do with her.  
  
He lived in a modest house behind the church with one room for himself, and one for a guest.  
  
Right now his house was being guarded by at least twenty righteous men wielding shovels, mallets, and in one case a musket.  
  
They were standing watch for two reasons. The first being to prevent the strange girl from leaving the house if she happened to wake, the second being to prevent the growing crowd of hysterical townspeople from entering the house and doing violence to the "demon girl". The disappearance of the silk merchant's daughter had everyone scared.  
  
The woman was in the guest room. She had been layed out carefully on the bed. One hand chained to the bedpost.  
  
She had been cleaned up, dressed in a nightrobe (her own clothes were tattered), and had remained unconscious throughout the entire ordeal.   
  
She looked peaceful.  
  
Father Baker had discovered that despite the scratches and burns, she was in fact beautiful. Tall and slim, with exotically tanned skin and full lips.  
  
Her hair was unusual. Short and blond. Obviously not its natural colour, and apparently cut that way intentionally.  
  
He wondered what she would say when she woke.  
  
He wondered what he would say.  
  
Many of those who had been in attendance at the service that morning were clamoring to have her executed.  
  
Jack Baker was uncertain.  
  
That the terrifying portal which had opened within the church had been evil he had no doubt.  
  
It had taken the life of an innocent child, who's family were being consoled that very moment in the next room.  
  
But there was something about the girl that made him believe she was innocent.  
  
Someone had been sent to find the missing girl's older brother who apparently did not make a habit of attending church services. Baker knew the rest of the family by sight, but the eldest son was known to him only by reputation. A troublemaker by all accounts. Baker wondered how he would respond to the news.   
  
Would he believe it?   
  
Baker wasn't sure he believed it himself.  
  
He rubbed his eyes and looked again at the girl.  
  
She did not look evil. But of course appearances were no way to judge.  
  
Still, he instinctively believed her to be a victim of the whole ordeal, not the instigator.  
  
He would have to wait until she woke to make that decision with any surety.   
  
Her eyes were twitching.  
  
Baker stiffened.  
  
"Child?" he said softly.  
  
The eyes snapped open. Large and brown. The wandered for a moment, then fixed on Baker and narrowed. He felt like a rabbit being sighted down the shaft of an arrow, despite the fact that she was on the bed and he was standing over her. Her gaze was intense. He fidgeted.   
  
She tried to sit up, then groaned in pain and thought better of it. Instead she tugged on the wrist that was chained to the bed.  
  
"You're awake," Baker stated in an obvious way.  
  
"No kidding," she said in an odd accent that Baker couldn't place. He fell silent.  
  
She looked around the room, then fixed her eyes back on Baker, then on the nightdress he had lent to her.  
  
She seemed to be trying to piece a puzzle together. Twisting her head around to get the full impact of the room around her.   
  
But for the bed and a small bookcase, it was bare.  
  
She used her free hand to grip the fabric of the nightdress.  
  
"What am I wearing?" she asked finally.  
  
"It's one of mine. I'm afraid your own clothes are not terribly wearable at this point. I'm not certain they'd've been considered appropriate even if they were."  
  
"My clothes weren't appropriate?" she asked in a dangerous tone.  
  
"Well, I . . . . .I don't . . . . . .I, I, I, don't,"  
  
"Oh save it!" she cut him off.  
  
She took one more look around the room, then began to talk, apparently to herself.  
  
"Okay Cor. You're obviously not up with higher beings. Something went wrong."  
  
She turned back to Baker who was becoming very confused with the girl's manner and odd phrases. She did not behave like the wounded and imprisoned young woman she was. Rather, she behaved as if she had power here, and Baker's presence was inconsequential.  
  
"Okay mister guy in black robe, where am I? How did I get here? And do they treat human beings like cows in this reality?" she demanded.  
  
"Human's as cows?" Baker asked in surprise. Who was this strange woman?  
  
"Where am I?" she demanded again. This time Baker thought he heard a note of building fear in her voice.  
  
Her gaze was like a hawk's.   
  
"You're safe for now," he said trying to reassure her, "You're in my guest room. Behind the church."   
  
"Church, what church?" she asked, her tone making it clear that his attempt at reassurance had been unsuccessful. Her brave facade was melting away. She tugged at the manacle that bound her wrist.  
  
"St Peter's." he replied.  
  
She gazed into the air as she took this in.  
  
"So I'm still on earth," she said quietly, "and you're a priest?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"So why have you chained me to a bed?! And where is this church? I'm I still in L.A?"  
  
"You're in Galway Miss."  
  
"Cordelia. You can call me Cordelia."  
  
"Very well, Cordelia. I am Father Baker and. . . . ."  
  
"Where's Galway?"  
  
"You mean what nation do you? It's in Ireland of course."  
  
"I'm in Ireland?!"  
  
She tugged on the chain again, sitting up in the bed and trying to stand  
  
"Yes," said Baker faintly, taking an instinctive step back from his determined guest.   
  
"You have to let me out of here!" she cried. "I have to get back to America! To my friends! Or at least to a phone so that they can send me the money for a plane ride home!"  
  
"Phone? I don't understand,"  
  
She stopped pulling at her wrist and looked at Baker as if he were a fool.  
  
"A telephone. You know. You talk into it? It goes 'bring bring.'"  
  
Baker felt bewildered.  
  
He also looked bewildered.  
  
He heard footsteps approaching rapidly.  
  
Both he and Cordelia turned to the door and waited apprehensively for the door to open.  
  
Jim burst into the room, took one look at Cordelia and advanced on her like a fox might advance on a chicken.  
  
"What have you done with my daughter?!" he demanded in a combination of grief and rage.  
  
Baker realized that the merchant must have heard the girls voice and known she was awake. It was the sort of voice that reverberated through a house. He hoped the people outside had not heard. He wasn't prepared for a riot.  
  
Cordelia just gaped at Jim, taking in the stylish silk clothing and neatly tied hair.  
  
"What year is it?" she asked weakly.  
  
"Where's Kathy?!" Jim demanded again, but louder this time.  
  
"Who the hell is Kathy?!" Cordelia screamed back at him. Tears of fear were forming in her eyes.  
  
Jim moved to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. As his fingers gripped her flesh she cried out in pain and used what looked like a wrestler's move to shove him away.  
Having seen the girl naked not one hour earlier, Baker was aware that Jim had just dug his fingers into nasty looking gashes, hidden by the nightshirt.   
  
Jim hit a bookshelf and stumbled to the floor. Shock marked his features.  
  
Baker suspected he was as surprised at his own behavior as much as he was at the girl's. Jim was not of the sort to tend toward violence against a woman. His grief was making him act out of character.  
  
Meanwhile, having just been attacked, Cordelia was tugging even more desperately at the chain.  
  
"Let me out!!" she screamed hysterically.  
  
Baker had been watching the whole scene in stunned silence. All of this was outside his experience. Hellish portals, missing daughters, strange young women.   
  
He was expected to be the religious leader of the town. To offer guidance. Unfortunately his youth and inexperience made him uncertain.  
  
But something had to be done.  
  
Feeling uncomfortably like a villain leaving a damsel to suffer alone, Baker went to Jim, picked the large man up from the floor, and steered him from the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
Cordelia's cries could still be heard through the thin wood. "Let ME OUT!!"  
  
"This is the business of the church!" Baker said firmly. "Now I'll be doin' everything in my power to find your daughter, but you must leave the girl to me!"  
  
Jim's anger did not fade, Baker could sense that, abd see it in the steely grey eyes, but to the man's credit he did try to mask it.  
  
Jim was a man who would respect the church and it's representatives on principal, despite the fact that the priest was no older than his own son.   
  
"Please find her," he said in a low voice.  
  
"I'll do my best," Baker responded, in a tone that he hoped would inspire confidence. "You should attend to your wife and your eldest now. They'll be needin' your support."  
  
"My eldest," spat Jim derisively.  
  
"He'll be grievin' too. He'll need you."  
  
Jim grunted, then slowly walked back to his wife who had been led to a low cushioned chair by the fireplace and given a steaming cup of tea.  
  
Anna had been sent to find Liam.  
  
  
L.A 2002  
  
Connor reached out and stroked the girl's cheek.  
  
As a child he'd had no friends, and since coming to live in L.A he'd spent most of his time trapped in the Hyperion, so his experience with children was limited.  
  
He felt drawn to this one.  
  
He couldn't have explained why.  
  
She was beautiful, despite the angry red scratches and many bandages. Watching over her gave him a warm protective feeling.   
  
He wondered if this was what how his father had felt about him when he was a baby.  
  
Fred had shown him a photo once. It had depicted the vampire sitting comfortably in a couch, holding a bundle of blankets. He had not been smiling. Just gazing down at the bundle. The way Connor was now gazing at the tiny child on the bed. Was this how Angel had felt? Was this why he had been so insistent that Connor come to live with him?  
  
They'd picked an empty room for the girl. The one next to Connor's. And after tending to the burns and scratches she had received in the hellish temporal fold tunnel, Fred had dressed her in a big floppy T-shirt that would hang to the girls knees if she woke up and started to walk around.  
  
Connor hoped she would wake.  
  
They had not taken her to the hospital because they had seen that the wounds were all basically superficial, and that a trip to the hospital would raise more questions than it was worth.  
  
Even so, the girl was so still that Connor worried.  
  
But he needn't have.  
  
The girl stirred, then settled.  
  
He relaxed a little, and resisted the urge to shake her until she woke. He wanted to see her awake and smiling.  
  
His keen hearing picked up the sound of a turning page.  
  
Wesley was in the lobby with his books, attempting to find out what Sahjahn had done to the portal.  
  
The tutor had studied the girl's clothing and ascertained that the child had been brought forward in time from the 1700's. But that did not explain what had happened to Angel.  
  
Connor was dealing with his father's disappearance by convincing himself that the vampire would return. There were no other possibilities. Angel would return. He had returned from the depths of the ocean. He would survive this.  
  
Connor knew that he would break somehow if he lost a second father.  
  
Maybe he would become a superstrong madman, killing randomly and howling at the moon.  
  
It was a horrifying thought that had entered his head for a moment.  
  
Angel had to return.  
  
Connor watched over the child.  
  
Another page turned downstairs.  
  
Gunn was pacing.  
  
Connor couldn't hear what Fred was doing.  
  
Anya had gone back to Sunnydale, saying that there were books there on portals and temporal folds there that might be useful. She'd also hinted that she might teleport to England to ask for Giles' advice on the matter. Wesley had been in support of that idea. Apparently Wesley and Giles and acquired their research skills at the same institution.  
  
As the person with the least research skills, Connor had been asked to watch over the girl.  
  
He'd taken the task very seriously, making sure that he had a glass of water, two pain killers, a couple of wrapped pieces of chocolate cake, and a twinkie on hand in case she woke up and needed something.  
  
He realized her eyes were open.  
  
Big brown eyes that looked oddly familiar.  
  
How long had she been watching him?  
  
His first reaction was to panic. How did you talk to children? Would she be afraid of him?  
  
"Hello," he said quietly.  
  
"Hello," she repeated in much the same tone. Suddenly she appeared to be very much afraid of him. "Is this hell?" she asked.  
  
"No!" he said.  
  
"I'm not dead?"  
  
"No."  
  
She appeared to accept this on face value. Connor decided he liked the way her words lilted. He smiled.  
  
"You're safe here," he told her. "You're lost. But we're trying to find out how to send you home."  
  
"Where are we?" she asked with wide eyes.  
  
"This is my home." Said Connor. And to his surprise the words felt true. This was his home. And that was his family downstairs.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked the girl.  
  
"Katherine. And your's sir?"  
  
She was polite. He'd never been called "sir" before. He liked it.  
  
"Connor."  
  
"Your words sound strange Connor."  
  
"No. Your words sound strange. Like you're trying to sing."  
  
They laughed together at that. Then her face contorted with pain.  
  
"I hurt too much to sing."  
  
Concerned, Connor reached for the pain killers. Katherine saw what he was doing and reached out too. Only her little fingers closed around one of the cake slices, rather thean the little pills.  
  
"Is this mine?" she asked.  
  
"Yes" he replied.  
  
"You have the other one." she said graciously.  
  
"Okay," he said, feeling strange.  
  
"You will tell my father that I'm safe?" she asked as she swallowed the first bite.  
  
Connor didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know if they would ever even find her father.  
  
"We will when we find him," he answered.  
  
"He was at church when I saw him last," she supplied helpfully.  
  
Connor could only nod.  
  
She studied her arm, and felt the bandages that covered her torso under the T-shirt.  
  
"Am I horribly covered in scratches then?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
Connor nodded tactlessly.  
  
She looked at him in fear as she took another bite of the cake.  
  
"You'll heal." He said softly. "Just rest. I've been scratched much worse by demons. You'll heal soon. Everything will be alright."  
  
He tentatively reached out to stroke her cheek. She seemed to calm down, fear giving way to curiosity.  
  
"You've fought demons then? Have you had great adventures? My brother tells me tales of adventures. Pirates and monsters and fairies."  
  
"I've never met a pirate," said Connor. He didn't know what else to say. He could think of nothing in his life that would entertain this girl. The only stories he could think of involved bloodshed and sadness. His life was depressing. He felt boring.  
  
"Oh." She said, disappointed.  
  
He frowned.  
  
"Sleep," he said. "I'll try to find your father."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"I wish I could find mine," he muttered as he left her to sleep.  
  
TBC  
  
Don't worry Angel isn't gone for good.  
  
Thanks for the reviews!!!! Once again, keep em comin'!  
  
Coming up:  
  
Liam finds out what happened to Kathy.  
  
W&H become very interested in the odd little girl staying at the Hyperion.  
  
Stay tuned!! 


	8. Shocks

Disclaimer: They belong to the WB etc.  
  
Summary: Installment no. 8. For all those who were wondering where the Angel disappeared off to.  
  
Lorne is still in Vegas, Connor has learned the truth, and Angel and Wesley have started to patch things up. To learn more, read the damn story. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 12  
  
Galway, 1753  
  
Anna raced down the laneway as fast as she could in the bulky dress she wore to church.  
  
Liam had not been at the house, and as Anna had not wanted to return to the church without him, she had begun to search the town.   
  
The local taverns had been her first bet.   
  
The blacksmith was her second.  
  
If she didn't find him there she would turn to knocking on doors randomly.  
  
It wasn't the safest thing for a young woman to be doing on a Sunday afternoon, but she had been faced with a hellish red tunnel that morning and survived, and she was willing to do whatever it took to find the young rogue.  
  
She entered the blacksmith's hayshed.  
  
"Liam?!" she called, for perhaps the tenth time that day. She fought to catch her breath.  
  
"Liam?! . . . .. .Thomas?"  
  
"Yes?" asked Thomas pleasantly, poking his head out from behind a bale of hay.  
  
"Have you seen Liam?" she asked, still breathing hard.  
  
Thomas leered at her.  
  
"Chasin' after him now are we?"  
  
Anna caught the implication and felt her face burn.  
  
"I need to speak with him," she said, "it's about his sister."  
  
"What about Kathy?" asked Liam from behind her.  
  
She spun around, suspecting furiously that he had been there the whole time.  
  
Seeing his face though, she realized that he had only arrived in time to hear her last phrase. He was holding two mugs of something he'd just brought out from the house.. He looked concerned.  
  
Anna suddenly realized that she had been distracted from the reality of Kathy's disappearance by the task of finding the older brother.  
  
Now, faced with the prospect of giving him the news, she felt her knees go weak. The memory of Kathy's little face as she was pulled away from her father fixed itself in her mind's eye.  
  
Anna had never been so horrified in all her young life.  
  
Liam must have seen something in her face because his voice rose in panic as he asked,  
  
"What's happened to Kathy?"  
  
Anna choked.  
  
"What happened Anna?!"  
  
"This mornin' at the church . . . . .she . . . . .she disappeared through a . . . . .a . . .I don't . . . .I didn't. . . ."  
  
Liam listened with a growing sense of fear. Then suddenly he ran.   
  
As he disappeared down the laneway Anna called out after him,  
  
"Go to the church! Your father's still there!"  
  
He gave no sign that he had heard, but she thought she noticed an increase in his speed.  
  
He wasn't the fastest runner, being of large build with no tendencies toward exercise, but he was running fast now.  
  
Anna watched him disappear, then collapsed on the nearest bail of hay, , still trying to catch her breath.  
  
She dimly registered that Thomas was still standing nearby, still leering at her.  
  
She glanced up.  
  
"Would you be likin' a shoulder to cry on?" he asked.  
  
Anna shook her head numbly.  
  
He sat beside her, placing an arm around her shoulder.  
  
"Come now," he said soothingly, "I don't know what's happened, but I'm sure it's not so terrible."  
  
She felt her shoulders shake in response to that. Oh how wrong he was.  
  
"You need comfort?" he whispered.  
  
His tone made her look up, suddenly very aware of how close he was, and how compromised her position was.  
  
She stiffened nervously.  
  
If Liam had not been gone he might have intervened.  
  
Anna tried to stand.  
  
Thomas pulled her back down.  
  
"Just sit," he said softly.  
  
"No," she mumbled, trying to pull away. She tried harder when his grip tightened.  
  
When he spoke again his voice was not so soft.  
  
"What? Good enough for Master Liam but not for Thomas?"  
  
Anna felt a scream building in her throat as she realized how easily he was overpowering her.  
  
She felt and heard the material of her dress being torn.  
  
Solid hands were gripping at her wrists as she struggled.  
  
"Liam!!" she screamed instinctively, while part of her knew that he had to be a mile away by now.  
  
Which was why she was so surprised when Thomas was suddenly thrown from her with shocking force.  
  
Thud.  
  
She sprung to her feet as fast as she could, holding her dress together with one hand and warding her attacker off with the other.  
  
She felt parts of her hair falling loose from the tight bun she'd fashioned for church.  
  
It took a moment or two to comprehend the scene before her.  
  
Thomas was slumped unconscious against a tall wooden cart, a trickle of blood running down his cheek.  
  
Standing over him was a man in a long black ripped coat.  
  
His shoulder was bare and scratched and bloody.  
  
He was facing away from her, toward Thomas, and on the back of the shoulder she saw a tattoo of a flying creature.  
  
His boots were odd.  
  
His dark hair was short and sticking out in all directions.  
  
She thought she heard him growl.  
  
She raised her free hand anticipating another attack. Instinctively she feared this man more than Thomas.  
  
Abruptly he turned to face her.  
  
She gasped in shock.  
  
"Liam?"  
  
His face was as scratched as his shoulder, scars that looked at least two days old.  
  
"Liam?" she asked again, less certain now.  
  
He appeared to be confused. He squinted.  
  
She could sense his tension. He might attack her yet.  
  
Finally recognition dawned.  
  
"Anna?" he asked in amazement.  
  
"Yes?" she asked faintly.  
  
He shook his head as if dismissing some thought or another, then let his gaze rest on the rip in her clothing.  
  
Under his scrutiny she shifted uncomfortably, her hand shaking and grasping at the dress to keep it together.  
  
He took a step toward her, and she stepped back, eying him nervously.  
  
Thomas's advance had taken away her sense of reality, and this man's manner and shocking resemblance to her young master were proving difficult to comprehend.  
  
He held up a hand in a sign of surrender, then removed the torn jacket to reveal a sleeveless shirt, equally torn.  
  
He slowly reached out to her with the jacket in his hand, his eyes asking her to take it.  
  
She stepped toward him, just close enough to reach out and accept it, then pulled it around her shoulders and buttoned the top button. The tear in the dress was covered.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked, having decided that this man was not Liam, however much he looked like the young master.  
  
"Angel," he said quietly, avoiding her eyes, "You can call me Angel."  
  
"Angel," she repeated.  
  
"What happened to Kathy?" he asked.  
  
So he's been there the whole time.   
  
"Are you related to her Sir?" Anna asked, trying to make some sense of the situation.  
  
"Yes. What happened?" he replied instantly.  
  
"I'm sorry Sir. She's been taken away."  
  
"By who? No wait, I should be able to remember."  
  
She remained silent as his brow furrowed in thought.  
  
"The church . . ." he said slowly, "the temporal fold. Oh God, the demon girl in the church!"  
  
"I'm sorry Sir?" Anna asked uncertainly.  
  
He looked up at her obvious confusion.  
  
"Nothing. Nothing," he said. He glanced over at Thomas in disgust. "You should go before he wakes," he muttered.  
  
She remained where she was.  
  
"Go."  
  
"Do you need help Sir?"  
  
"Go!"  
  
Frightened by his tone she ran. Out into the sunlight and all the way home to her safe empty house.  
  
What a terrible day.  
  
  
LA, 2002.  
  
"Do we suspect that Angel is in whatever time that girl came from then?" asked Gunn.  
  
"Yes," said Wesley, feeling tired to the bone, "I just can't figure out why the temporal fold turned into a tunnel that led to Europe in the 1700's. It doesn't make sense."  
  
"We know that Sahjahn had time traveling powers."  
  
"Yes, and whatever he did to the portal made it far more powerful than we intended it to be. We had it aimed at 6 months ago. Somehow it led to a place 200 years ago on another continent. We had it aimed at Cordy. Somehow we brought young Katherine here instead."  
  
"Didn't you say before that we couldn't bring a person here from the past? How'd little Kathy get here?"  
  
It was Fred who answered, "They said they couldn't bring Cordy here 'cause they didn't have that kind of power Charles. I guess Sahjahn did. Right Wesley?"  
  
"Right Fred" Wesley answered, collapsing into the closest armchair and resting his aching head on one hand.  
  
Fred, Gunn and Connor all watched him nervously.  
  
He was their best shot at getting Angel and perhaps Cordy back again. After two days of going through book after book, scroll after scroll, that one shot was not looking promising.  
  
"I'm afraid the only one who might have known how to bring him back was Sahjahn." he said hopelessly.  
  
"Little chance of bringin' him back here." Gunn stated, unnecessarily.   
  
"I just wish Katherine had been able to give us more information." said Wesley, glancing up toward the second level where the girl was sleeping.  
  
Connor glanced up too.  
  
Kathy had proved to be an active little thing, despite her healing injuries, and had quickly made her way into the hearts of the whole Angel Investigations group.  
  
They had been very careful not to frighten the girl after her ordeal, and had made it plain to her that they were doing everything they could to return her to her family.  
  
As a result she was cheerful, if slightly worried. Certainly she did not seem to have been permanently scarred by her terrible ordeal.  
  
Connor felt guilty. They had not lied to the child, but they had definitely led her to believe that she would be returning home soon. In reality it was looking less and less likely that they would ever find a way to send her back to where she belonged.  
  
Kathy had been fascinated by everything 21st century. From the toaster to the bright purple slinky that Angel had bought for Connor before he had been taken to Quor Toth.  
  
Connor had been delegated Kathy's watcher, and had spent an entire afternoon giggling with the girl as they sent the funny purple toy down the lobby stairs over and over again.  
  
The girl's attitude was making Connor realize that he might have missed something growing up in Quor Toth.   
  
She was truly young.  
  
It made him feel lost.  
  
She still did not have any proper clothes that fit.  
  
Wesley had reflected that if Cordelia had been there, clothes would have magically become the group's first priority, no matter how many friends had been sucked into temporal folds.  
  
But Cordelia was not there, and Kathy was still walking around in baggy T-shirts, and Connor's boxer shorts.  
  
She didn't seem to mind much.  
  
And there she was, sleepy eyed with tousled hair, and one hand stretching out as she yawned.  
  
Connor and Wesley were the first two to notice her on the stairway.  
  
Wesley nodded in the boy's direction.  
  
Connor took the meaning and bounded up the stairs to meet the girl, leaving the rest of the group to their research.  
  
"Good morning," he said pleasantly.  
  
"Yes," she said, "a good mornin' it is. Do you think Wesley will be finding the way home today?"  
  
Connor looked back over his shoulder to the tired group in the lobby.  
  
"I hope so," he said. "I'd like my father back."  
  
He was missing the vampire horribly.  
  
If someone had told him three months ago that he'd be feeling this way, he would have laughed at them scornfully.  
  
"What's your father like?" the girl asked curiously, sensing something odd in Connor's manner.   
  
"He's tall." Connor answered in a flip way.  
  
Kathy laughed.  
  
"Do you want to play with the slinky?"  
  
"No. I want to know about your father! You're all very fond of him. You're working very hard to find him."   
  
She placed her hands on her hips.  
  
Connor tried to stare her down but failed. He'd stared down Gulgar demons, but an eight year old was getting the better of him.  
  
He let out a tired laugh.  
  
"I have a picture of him somewhere." he admitted.  
  
"A portrait?"  
  
"No. It's called a photograph. They're very strange. They capture images."  
  
"Oh really?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
Growing exited, Connor almost skipped as he led the way to him room. He was anticipating her reaction to the picture. Even he had responded with some wonder the first time he had seen a photograph.  
  
She followed him into the room and sat on the bed, looking around at his things as he rummaged through a shoebox looking for the picture.  
  
To Katherine, almost everything in the hotel looked strange.  
  
From the kitchen appliances to the décor, all was alien to her.  
  
As a result she did not perceive how odd Connor's room truly was.  
  
It was a mismatched combination of baby toys, ancient weapons, tokens from dead demons, dirty washing and Connor's learning materials.  
  
Connor did not perceive the oddness of the room either.  
  
"My father is a silk merchant," she said, "he's very tall too."  
  
"Mm hm," said Connor, still looking for the photo.  
  
"My brother likes to draw portraits. He draws me sometimes."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Mmm. Father says it's a frivolous pastime. He thinks Liam should be doing other things."  
  
"That's your brother? Liam?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Hmm. Oh I found it!"  
  
He produced the photograph from the depths of the box.  
  
He took the time to look at it himself before letting the girl see it.  
  
It was one Fred had shown him.  
  
The one with baby Connor in it.  
  
He smiled, then turned it around to show Kathy.  
  
Kathy looked with interest for a moment, then her face twisted in surprise.  
  
"That can't be your father! That's Liam!" she cried.  
  
She looked at Connor to see if this were some kind of joke.  
  
The blood had drained from his face.  
  
TBC.  
  
  
Okay, I know a lot of people were wondering what the hell happened to Angel, I hope the answer was satisfying.  
  
I'm not sure whether or not I will have Kathy meet Angel at any point, it's definitely a possibility, but we'll see. Don't worry though, there will definitely be some shocking revelations for Jim!  
  
Thanks again to all the reviewers. As always, you guys rock!!!  
  
This story was taken off the main page, and I'm not entirely sure why.  
  
If anyone can give me the answer to that, or tell me how to get it back up, that would be appreciated.  
  
Thanks for reading.  
  
Cheers  
  
Whiskey :) 


	9. Help

Disclaimer: They belong to the WB etc.  
  
Summary: Installment no. 9. Angel goes to Anna for help, and Connor finally learns the reason why Angel and Wesley don't get along so well.  
  
Lorne is still in Vegas, Connor has learned the truth, and Angel and Wesley have started to patch things up. To learn more, read the damn story. Enjoy!  
  
  
Chapter 13  
  
Galway, 1753.  
  
Angel made a conscious effort to keep putting one foot ahead of the other.  
  
He was going to pay Anna a visit.  
  
He didn't really want to see the girl any more than he wanted to return to the old house.   
  
Some things were better left in the past.   
  
But she was his only real hope of reaching Cordelia.  
  
If he was going to save his seer, he needed an acomplis.  
  
He had spent a day, a night and a second day, thinking out his next move in the safety of an abandoned warehouse.  
  
It had not been easy. Thoughts such as "what if my father sees what I've become?" and "what will I say to anyone I've murdered?" kept jumping into his mind and getting in the way.  
  
He didn't know how he would handle a conversation with a past victim. Which was why he had decided to approach Anna. She had never been his victim, having been absent the day he killed his family, and even more, she had been saved by him.   
  
It was possible that she would be more than willing to help him rescue Cordelia from the church.  
  
His memories of this time were vague, but he knew without a doubt that somehow, someone would rescue his seer. He recalled the uproar it had caused within the town, and his own anger toward Father Baker for letting the only link to Kathy's disappearance be taken away. Cordy would be taken out of the church, and all Angel had to do was make sure that he was the one who did the taking.  
  
And for that he needed the help of someone who could enter Father Baker's house without an invitation.  
  
He could of course take his usual course of using guile to convince Baker to let him in. But Baker had already met Liam, and being a religious man, might recognize Angel for the demon he was. With Cordelia's life on the line, Angel was not willing to take that risk.   
  
So he walked to the old house. Step by step.  
  
When he reached it he found that he had to do some fancy gymnastics to get into the courtyard. The fences were high.  
  
He reflected that as a human he had never even attempted to climb them.  
  
He jumped the fence, still moving on automatic.  
  
If he stopped and allowed himself to think, the memories would cripple him  
  
But as he reached the courtyard he was forced to think. Which one was Anna's window? There were six to choose from.  
  
He saw one room with open curtains. There was movement within.  
  
He squinted, then suddenly dashed to the house's side, too close to be seen by the room's occupant should he happen to glance outside.  
  
It was Liam!  
  
If Angel had been human he would have been trying to catch his breath, and slow his heart rate.  
  
As it was he was cursing his own blind stupidity.  
  
All this time he had been wondering what might happen if his parents saw him in his current state of undeadness. He hadn't even considered what might happen if he came in contact with himself.  
  
That morning in the Blacksmith's barn he had been too disoriented to really register that Liam had been there.  
  
Now his head was clear, and the full impact of what was occurring hit him over the head like a sledgehammer.  
  
Could he change the past?  
  
Could he prevent himself from being sired?  
  
The consequences of that thought were mindboggling.  
  
Kathy would live to see her ninth birthday.  
  
Hundreds of victims would be saved.  
  
Darla would never have left the master, and might still be alive somewhere.  
  
Spike and Dru would have died nice normal human deaths.  
  
Buffy would have drowned at the age of sixteen.  
  
Cordelia would have been drained dry by Russell Winters.  
  
Doyle might still be alive.  
  
Wesley would still be a rogue demon hunter.  
  
Fred would still be in Pylea.  
  
Gunn would still be on the streets.  
  
The world might have ended.  
  
Connor would never have existed.  
  
He decided right then that he would not make any attempt to change the past.  
  
He would stick to the script in his head. He would not alter any of his own experiences.  
  
And that meant staying out of Liam's way.  
  
He could hear an argument occurring in the dining room. Liam and his father were fighting. Obviously Liam had left his room.  
  
Memories of the long and tedious arguments flooded into Angels mind, and for a moment he thought he might faint. He could feel tears of regret coming, and stubbornly held them back. He needed to focus on Cordelia. On what it would feel like to be reunited with her. She had a way of making the pain stop.   
  
He ventured out from the cover of the house and stared at the windows again. He was back on automatic now. Carefully blocking out the sound of his father's voice.  
  
The top floor on the right had to be it he decided.   
  
He picked up a variety of pebbles from the ground and began to toss them at the window. They made soft clunking sounds as they connected.  
  
He waited.  
  
After a while he began to wonder what he would do if she were not in her room.  
  
He couldn't just climb in the window and wait for her.  
  
He had a sudden memory of the time he had done just that while looking for Buffy one night.  
  
He had climbed quietly through the window only to find a tiny little brunette trying on her big sister's make-up while Buffy was out.  
  
It was his first memory of Dawn.  
  
The ten year old had shrewdly made a bargain with the vampire. She wouldn't tell Joyce that Buffy was having strange late night visitors, if he would forget to mention the 'borrowing' of cosmetics.  
  
They had even pinky sworn on it.  
  
But such an accidental meeting in this house could prove disastrous.  
  
Suddenly the curtains were thrown back and the window was being unlatched.  
  
Anna's head appeared, long hair drifting out. She appeared to be confused.  
  
"Anna!" Angel called softly.  
  
"Liam?" she called back. She still hadn't seen him. He stepped into the light that shone from the room behind her.  
  
"No." he said.  
  
"It's you Sir!" she cried in surprise. "I thought I'd not be seein' you again!"  
  
"Well I'm here," he said loudly, almost cringing at the sound of his own voice, "and I need your help."  
  
She looked uncertain, "What would you be needin' help with Sir?"  
  
Despite himself, Angel was getting a real thrill from being repeatedly called 'Sir'.  
  
"I have a friend in trouble," he said, "and you can call me Angel. That's my name. Angel."  
  
"Angel," she repeated, "It's nice to know you have a name. But how could I be of any help to you? What sort of trouble is your friend in?"  
  
"Can you come out and speak with me?" he called. He was becoming concerned because in order to hear each other clearly they were almost yelling their words. He needed her to come out so that they could speak without being overheard.  
  
She stared at him for a few long moments. He knew that she was trying to decide how safe he was. Just a few day's earlier she had witnessed a young girl being sucked into a portal, and had very nearly been raped. Her sense of security had to be fairly thin at this point.  
  
"I saved you once," he pointed out, trying to win her over.  
  
She looked down at her hands on the window sill.   
  
"That you did," she muttered.   
  
If Angel had been human he would not have heard the words. She hadn't intended him to hear them.  
  
"I'll be comin' down then," she said, this time for his benefit.  
  
He smiled as she disappeared from the window.  
  
He had her.  
  
  
LA, 2002  
  
Connor sat in the lobby with Wesley and Gunn, confused and angry.  
  
The problem was he didn't know who to be angry at.  
  
His father was the most obvious target. He was the one who had killed the child.  
  
Wesley was the second most obvious. His reaction was so odd. He had not responded to the news of Kathy's identity with anger, grief, or even fear. He had simply closed his eyes and muttered "poor Angel."  
  
Part of Connor was even angry at Kathy for trusting her brother with such blind faith. She had talked about him for hours on end while Connor was taking care of her.  
  
The strangest part of it all was that Kathy's descriptions of her brother didn't sound anything like the Angel he knew. Liam seemed loud and energetic. Angel was quiet and sad. Even his name was different. It made Connor begin to believe that his father's soul was slowly being destroyed over time  
  
The difference in the names had been Connor's last hope that Angel and Liam might simply be two different men who looked alike. But Wesley had dashed that hope. When Connor had told him about the photograph he had known immediately. He seemed to know far more about the vampire's past than Gunn did.  
  
The tall fighter had simply exclaimed "Angel's real name is Liam?!" seeming to miss the whole "Angel killed Kathy" side of the situation.  
  
Now the three sat in silence on the circular couch.  
  
Connor had asked Fred to take Kathy shopping for proper clothes, indicating to her that he had something to tell them and could not have Kathy underfoot when he did.  
  
The physicist was still unaware of the girl's origins.  
  
"Why do you think he changed his name?" asked Gunn suddenly.  
  
"Well he was often referred to as the demon with the face of an Angel," Wesley replied, "perhaps it was given to him, rather than him choosing it for himself."  
  
"We're not sending her back there," said Connor.  
  
"Damn right." Gunn agreed.  
  
Wesley looked uncertain.  
  
Gunn noticed his friend's expression and winced.  
  
"I know that look. That's the look you get when your about to let loose with some obscure educated reason why we can't just do the right thing without massive consequences. Am I right?"  
  
"What consequences?" Connor demanded, "We are not sending her back to be murdered by Angelus!"  
  
"It's more complicated than that." said Wesley slowly.  
  
"No . . .!" Connor began, but cut himself off when Gunn touched him gently on the arm.  
  
"Tell us about them consequences Wes." he said resignedly.  
  
Wesley looked at him nervously, and Connor realized that there had been some kind of warning in the fighter's voice that he hadn't understood. It occurred to him that Angel had been taken away before telling him about the issues between himself and Wesley.  
He would ask Wesley again. Soon.  
  
"Try to think of it logically," the Englishman began, "if we keep Kathy here, in our time, we could very well alter the course of history, in ways that we can't even imagine!"  
  
Gunn looked doubtful.  
  
"We'd be savin' a girl's life! And you know Wes, I think Angel'd be happy to have little sis back. You know how he is about them past victims. If he had the chance to save one he would!"  
  
"But at what cost?" asked Wesley softly. "If Angelus did not kill Kathy, he may have been a very different vampire. Killing one's own sister would have a deep psycological effect, evil vampire or not."  
  
"Don't I know it," Gunn muttered, interrupting.  
  
"How?" asked Connor.  
  
Gunn just looked down.  
  
Wesley decided to explain, "Gunn's sister was sired as a vampire. He was forced to stake her. But Gunn, you can't let your own experiences interfere with your judgment on this."  
  
"What does it matter if she doesn't die two hundred years ago?" Gunn demanded.  
  
"It matters because it might change the person that Angel is today! I mean think about it! What if Angel had never come to LA? Where would you and I be then? All the people we've saved while in his employ? What about them?"  
  
"I'd still be out savin' 'em. Angel or no." Gunn stated stubbornly.  
  
"Holtz's family might have lived," Connor whispered,  
  
"Oh who cares about Holtz's family!" Gunn yelled, missing the fact that Connor was supporting his argument.  
  
Having just found out that Gunn's sister had been murdered, Conner decided to let it slide.  
  
"Conner might never have been born." said Wesley. That stopped everyone in their tracks.  
  
Connors expression was thoughtful.  
  
"If it saves Kathy's life, I could live with not being born." he said finally with a solemn look.  
  
Gunn looked surprised, but impressed.  
  
Wesley looked irritated.  
  
"You wouldn't live at all if that were to happen and you're not seeing my point. Look at it this way. What if Angel had never been cursed? What if he'd spent the last hundred years killing and maiming the way he did for his first hundred and fifty years as a vampire? Could you live with that Conner."  
  
Connor thought for a split second before replying, "No."  
  
Gunn still looked put out.  
  
"Haven't you ruined enough innocent lives with that cold hard logic Wes? I woulda thought you'd learned your lesson by now!"  
  
And with that he stormed out, leaving Connor to wonder what the hell he was talking about.   
  
Connor and Wesley were left alone in the lobby.  
  
Connor watched the older man wondering if he would provide the explanation.  
  
When Wesley said nothing Connor decided to probe him for information.  
  
"The other day. You were going to tell me something about Sahjahn, and why you and Dad don't get along. Tell me now."  
  
It had come out as an order.  
  
Wesley looked critically at the boy, thinking about how much he had just sounded like Angel. Even after having his position as leader of Angel Investigations taken away, the vampire had given orders. It seemed to come naturally to him. Perhaps having something to do with the fact that he was over two hundred years older than any of his colleagues. But now Wesley wondered if it was hereditary. But if that was true Kathy would be bossing people around too. Wesley didn't think the girl had ever given an order in her life. He wondered how Buffy had dealt with Angel's tendency to take charge. She had never responded well to orders.  
  
Connor was still waiting for a response.  
  
Wesley thought about the day Connor had gone running from his apartment after hearing the truth about Holtz. He could feel himself shaking, but decided to bite the bullet.  
  
"The fake prophesy," he said. "The one that said that Angel would kill you."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I believed it."  
  
Connor was shocked.  
  
"But you're his friend. You know he doesn't want to hurt me. Not while he's cursed."  
  
"I thought that the curse might be broken accidently down the track. Or perhaps Angel would be under some influence that would make him act out of character."  
  
"Oh. . . . . . . . . . . . . What did you do?"  
  
"I took you from him."  
  
Wesley had stated the words with such a flat voice that it took Connor a while to understand what had been said. When he did understand he jumped of the couch and backed away from the tutor.  
  
"I was told that Holtz took me."  
  
"No," Wesley whispered, clearly ashamed, "It was me. Holtz sent Justine to take you from me after the event. She gave me this."  
  
He pulled his collar down, revealing the angry red scar.  
  
"She tried to kill you." Connor whispered, feeling Justine's betrayal all over again.  
  
"Yes. . . . . . . . . As did your father when he discovered what I'd done."  
  
"You stole my childhood then?" Connor asked, choosing to ignore his father's actions for the moment. When he had first reached this reality he had not felt that his childhood had been stolen at all. But spending time with Kathy had made him realize how wrong he had been.  
  
Wesley looked up at Connor and choked. Connor realized that the tutor's eyes were wet.  
  
"I was trying to save you. I wanted to save you both! If Angel had killed you while under some evil influence it would have destroyed you both. I wanted to prevent that! Please believe that Connor. I didn't want any of those terrible things to happen. I certainly didn't plan your trip to Quor Toth."  
  
Connor remained silent. A stoic expression on his face. Wesley writhed inwardly wondering what the boy would do. As Angel had warned him, Connor was dangerous and unpredictable.  
  
The truth was that Connor was just too confused to respond. Images rushed through his mind. Justine slitting Wesley's throat. Angel trying to kill Wesley, (he could only imagine how), Angel promising to tell him the truth about what happened. Angel bearing down on him with an axe. Wesley taking a baby from the old wooden crib he kept in his room.  
  
"I believe you," he said.  
  
Then he went to his room.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
Hey everyone!!  
  
Just wanted to ask Firenze what "Reese's" is. I'm an Australian, so my knowledge of American foods in limited.  
  
Also, in response to Tariq, suggestions are always appreciated! And I will even occasionally use them if they fit in with what I've already got planned for these characters.  
  
Thanks to you guys for reviewing. You're all very kind!  
  
Keep em coming!!  
  
Hugs for all!!  
  
Whiskey 


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